


if you're for real and I pretend

by PeppyBismilk



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Funeral Sex, Getting Back Together, Implied Past Trauma, M/M, Pining, Romance, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23025505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyBismilk/pseuds/PeppyBismilk
Summary: Three years ago, Felix put his heart on the line and Sylvain tore it to shreds. It was for the best; Felix has his eyes on the future and Sylvain’s stuck in the past. But no matter the distance between them, one fact remains: Sylvain would take a bullet for Felix—even if it means shooting himself in the heart.A story of love and friendship, for better or worse.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 60
Kudos: 262
Collections: Sylvain Week 2020!





	1. I don't think I can do this again

**Author's Note:**

> for sylvain week 2020, day 5: ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain sees an old friend at a bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for mild blood in this chapter, from an accidental trip and fall

Out of all the people Sylvain had known in his life, the last person he expected to run into at a bar was Felix Hugo Fraldarius. 

Especially this far north of Enbarr at 2 AM on a Thursday. 

Sylvain didn’t know why he was still here himself. The celebration was over and he was too drunk to get laid. Mercedes, Ashe, and Dedue had gone home an hour ago, along with the rest of their fellow soon-to-be nurses (whose names he couldn’t be bothered to remember). All that remained was graduation on Saturday, and at the rate Sylvain was going, the hangover would last until then.

It all made sense now; he was here to suffer. An initiation into the world of the working stiff, or subconscious penance for his sins. How fitting that Felix would be here to witness it. They hadn’t made eye contact yet—maybe Felix hadn’t noticed him—but with Sylvain’s luck, it was only a matter of time.

That  _ was  _ Felix, wasn’t it? Sylvain rubbed the drunk out of his eyes and leaned a bit closer to make sure, but there was no mistaking him. 

Felix hadn’t grown an inch since his 18th birthday, but his face bore proof of his maturity. It wasn’t just the bags under his eyes; his jaw was sharper, his cheeks more regal. Sylvain had seen pictures because he was a weak man, but social media didn’t do Felix justice.

Felix glanced at something by the door and the flash of hair hit Sylvain like whiplash. He still wore it the same way.

When Sylvain was eleven and Felix was nine, Felix had fallen out of the tree they were climbing. He broke his arm that day, but neither the pain nor the stitches had made Felix cry. No, Felix hadn’t shed a single tear until the next time he slept over at Sylvain’s house, when Sylvain had tried and failed to twist those thick curtains of Fraldarius hair into a bun for him. Felix had cried and cried that morning, and he hadn’t stopped until Sylvain had begged Glenn to come over and fix it. 

That bun was a family secret, a mystery Sylvain still couldn’t unravel. Felix, on the other hand? Sylvain understood him all too well. 

Adjusting to the cast had been easy for little Felix. School was no problem, and he didn’t need his arms to play soccer. Almost overnight, he became an expert in one-armed kendo. Even as a child, Felix had been too disciplined to let nuisances like itchy skin bother him, though Sylvain has caught him going to town with a pencil under his cast on more than one occasion. He was far from helpless.

No, Felix had cried because he needed both hands to do his hair. He couldn’t do it by himself, and he hated relying on other people. He hated looking weak.

Not that Sylvain had ever thought Felix weak. But before that day, Sylvain had no idea that Felix cared about looking weak in front of _him_. Felix wasn’t the only one who had cried about it, but no one came to dry Sylvain’s tears.

In hindsight, Felix was right not to trust him. Sylvain was always the weak one, and nothing had changed. 

Whiskey burned a trail down his throat as he downed his entire glass. 

Even now, as a grown man less than two days shy of a degree, he was too weak and too drunk to approach Felix. It wouldn't have mattered if he were sober. He gave up the right to say anything to Felix three years ago.

Sylvain could look at him, though. He just couldn’t get caught. 

Sylvain’s heart clenched in his chest, and another ill-advised whiskey didn’t kill the ache. What he needed to do was call a rideshare and leave, not stare at his ex-best friend, his ex-something, tempting fate to pistol whip him in the face.

He had dreamed about this moment, potential outcomes branching out in infinite universes in his mind. But now, faced with the reality of a reunion, he wasn’t even sure how he wanted it to go. Felix sure as shit wasn’t going to hug him. He might chew Sylvain out, rough him up a bit. Back in their soccer days, Felix had racked up more red cards than anyone, always for fighting. Did he still talk with his fists?

Did Sylvain  _ want _ Felix to hit him? That was fucked up, even for him. He needed another drink. 

_ I don’t want him to punch me.  _ The whiskey scorched his tongue.  _ I want him to kiss me so hard I can’t breathe. _ Sylvain wanted nails down his back and fists in his hair like in his dreams, the ones where Felix would slam him into a wall, suck his neck black and blue, and then they’d fuck with their clothes on because getting naked wasted precious time and they’d already lost so damn much.

_ Fuck, _ Sylvain could not go there. This was what destroyed them years ago: Sylvain’s compulsive need to ruin every good thing he touched.

_ It was Felix’s idea.  _

Sylvain stomped out his last shreds of rationality with another drink, his last. He was going to leave as soon as the room stopped spinning.

Felix hadn’t moved, like he was determined not to notice Sylvain. It was better that way. Sylvain deserved less than nothing. 

If only he could remember how to stand up.

Then someone approached Felix, and he forgot how to breathe.

The person looked like a girl, tiny with cutesy purple hair. She was pretty, delicate. Like someone who needed protection. Perfect for Felix. He probably got things down from the high shelf for her, carried her into bed, fucked her nice and tender. 

Was Felix bi? He had never given Sylvain a straight answer.

The girl looked worried, and she grabbed Felix’s arm. He didn’t jerk away. Worry knitted his brows and soured Sylvain’s stomach.

“Where have you been?” Felix’s relief twisted the knife, left the wound open and gushing. Sylvain was going to vomit.

“I-I was hiding in the bathroom.” Her voice was high. Kinda whiny. Her eyes scanned the bar and she grimaced, like she didn’t know how to smile. Perfect. She probably hated people and fun just like Felix. “Sorry, I know I said I’d stay with you, but I got spooked.”

One corner of Felix’s mouth lifted in a tiny smile. For her. Not for Sylvain. 

Jealousy tasted worse than bile, and Sylvain wanted to puke it all up, leave it here in this bar and never have it cross his tongue again. Felix was happy. That should have made Sylvain happy. But he had never wanted what was best for Felix, had he?

“It’s fine,” Felix said. “I’ve had about enough of this dump, anyway.”

“So we can go?” The girl’s face lit up in a bright smile. Goddess, she was cute, and Felix…Felix deserved her.

It was good, really. Felix was happy, and Sylvain would go home alone, graduate, and start his job. Half the reason he studied nursing was to meet cute girls, and he could sleep his way through every medical professional in Faerghus General Hospital like a damn procedural drama. That was all he was good for. 

It would sound better once his hangover cleared.

“Did you see him?” the girl asked. Sylvain snapped his head up so fast his brain didn’t make it off the bartop.

He had to be hallucinating, because Felix was looking right at him.

“No.” 

They left, and the next thing Sylvain knew, someone was shaking him. 

“Hey, buddy,” said the bartender. He pointed at the neon beer logo clock on the wall. “Closing time. Lemme call you a cab.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” said someone with Sylvain’s voice. Did he really sound that drunk? “My friend lives down the street.”

The bartender looked skeptical. Smart. But he sighed and said, “Stay safe out there.”

Sylvain couldn’t promise that. He didn’t make it a block before his shoe caught on a crack in the pavement. He was too drunk to fight the fall so his wrists were fine, but staying loose didn’t stop his nose from hitting the curb. The impact knocked his head up with a loud crack. 

Great. A stiff neck on top of a busted nose. The perfect end to the perfect night. 

Chicks dug scars, but so did Felix. Too damn bad.

Sylvain licked his lip and tasted blood.

He couldn’t be alone right now. Ingrid lived too far away, and Annette and Mercedes didn’t have room in their apartment. Dedue and Ashe wouldn’t turn him away, but Sylvain really didn’t want them to see him like this. 

But he hadn’t lied to the bartender, and with a scrap of an old receipt shoved up his nose to stop the bleeding, he stumbled to Dimitri’s house.

“Sylvain?!” Dimitri grabbed his shoulders and Sylvain fell into his arms.

“You’re so big, Your Highness,” Sylvain slurred, resting his head on Dimitri’s sturdy bosom. 

Dimitri didn’t even balk at his old nickname. “What happened to you?”

A laugh bubbled out of Sylvain’s numb mouth. “I swear I didn’t know she was married until her husband kicked my ass.”

“If someone assaulted you, you should call the police!” Dimitri ushered him inside. “I’ll get you some towels and ice, just keep talking to me.”

“Don’t put me on your futon,” Sylvain protested as Dimitri lowered him onto it anyway. He snatched the paper out of Sylvain’s nose, too. “Gonna bleed on it.”

“Blood washes out,” Dimitri called from the next room over.

Sylvain snorted and his nose throbbed, blissfully dulled by the booze. “Fucking creepy that you know that, Your Highness!” 

He was falling down, down, down, and then, like some kind of big damn hero, Dimitri was propping him back up and dabbing at his face with a towel.

“I’m not the prom king anymore, Sylvain,” he said. Sylvain hissed at the sting from whatever Dimitri was putting on his face. It didn’t smell bad. 

Then again, all he could really smell was blood and Dimitri’s cologne. 

“I lied,” Sylvain admitted. Now he sounded nasal and wasted. “I fell down outside a bar because I’m a lousy drunk.”

“Dedue said you might end up staying here,” Dimitri replied. “You’re more than welcome, of course. Even if you bleed on my futon.”

“You’re such a good friend.” Sylvain felt himself tipping over, and Dimitri scooped him up again. “A good, sexy friend.”

“Sylvain…” Dimitri pushed Sylvain’s face up with one giant hand, cheeks pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “Can you hold the rag? I need to check you for a concussion."

Dimitri steered Sylvain’s hand to the rag, then peeled his eyelids open.

“Wouldn’t be my first.” Sylvain laughed again. “Remember when Felix kicked me in the face by accident back when you two made the varsity team? Tonight feels kind of like that.” Only that time, Felix had kicked him on purpose.

“I see,” said Dimitri. He held up a finger for Sylvain to attempt to follow. “Well, your memory seems okay.”

“I’m fine. Unless you can fix dumb fuck disease.” 

Dimitri didn’t even crack a smile. “You’re not dumb, Sylvain.” 

“Didn’t say I was.” Sylvain’s loud belch underlined his point. “I just do lots of dumb shit.”

At least that made Dimitri laugh. “I can’t argue with that. Here,” he took the bloody rag, “I think the bleeding stopped.”

The ice that replaced the rag sat on his face for a good thirty seconds before Sylvain felt it. “Guess you should have been the nurse.”

“Me?” Dimitri shook his head. “Knowing me, I’d kill three patients a day.”

“You’re not going to murder me in my sleep tonight, are you? First the blood, now you're threatening patients…”

But Dimitri was walking away again. Sight and time eluded Sylvain until Dimitri came back with a glass of water. “Drink this. I’m going to get you some pants. It looks like you ripped yours."

So he did. A shame, too. Sylvain always got a lot of compliments in these, and ripped jeans weren’t in style right now. At least his knee wasn’t bleeding much. 

He pulled the tattered pants down to his shoes, but he had to take those off, too. These didn’t just slip off, either, so he had to untie them. What a pain. 

He kicked them off (into the coffee table, oops) and took off his shirt for good measure, then looked up to find Dimitri, wide-eyed and staring at him, holding a pair of flannel pants. 

“Is it time for my prostate exam, Nurse Dima?”

Dimitri tossed the pants at him. “You didn’t drink your water.”

“Oh no, you caught me being naughty.” Sylvain took a sip, dimly aware that he was spilling a lot down his front. “Sorry about the futon, Nurse Dima. You better spank me.”

“Did they teach ethics in your nursing school?” Dimitri asked as he collected Sylvain’s discarded jeans. 

“Come on, you know I’m just joking.” It took a couple tries but Sylvain jostled his way into the pants. He took another, neater sip of water and managed to put the cup in the coffee table without spilling any. He barely fit on the futon but he lay down and closed his eyes. “Nurse, will you tuck me in?”

“Sylvain.” Dimitri needed to work on his bedside manner. He sounded way too tense. “You have a message.”

“Is it tits?” Sylvain didn’t even care. “Delete it.”

Something hard tapped his shoulder. 

Sylvain cracked an eye open. His phone? Dimitri looked fit for a funeral as he handed it over. 

The screen blinked to life when the phone changed hands. 

A single notification waited on the lock screen. 

**Felix  
** **1h ago**

“Sylvain,” Dimitri repeated. “What happened?”

That was a loaded question. Sylvain squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it—the message, the world, he, himself—would disappear. 

No such luck. Out with it, then.

“I slept with Felix.”

Dimitri didn’t reply for a long time. “Is that a joke?”

Dimitri didn’t have all the information, but he knew enough. Sylvain was too tired to tell him more. His phone fell to his chest and he clutched it there, using his other hand as a vice for his temples. 

“I just want to go to sleep, Dimitri.” 

Deflection was as good as an answer. 

Dimitri said nothing.

“Thanks for letting me crash.” Sylvain turned over in the futon, still holding his phone to his heart. “Sorry about the futon, I mean it. I’ll wash it.”

“It’s okay,” Dimitri said after a moment. “It was Glenn’s old futon from college.”

Of course it was. 

The floor creaked under Dimitri’s weight, then the lights flicked off. Sylvain didn’t close his eyes. He hadn’t lied to Dimitri; he needed sleep, but he was a weak, sick man. 

He unlocked his phone. 

_ once a coward, always a coward _

Each word was a blow to his mind, pounding him into a cold, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _and I've been thinking of you in my room_   
>  _do you remember it, too?_   
>  _remember it, too?_
> 
> chapter title and lyrics from _I don't think I can do this again_ by mura masa & clairo
> 
> \---
> 
> Thanks so much to [Naamah_Beherit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naamah_Beherit) for beta reading this chapter, and thanks to [phichithamsters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters) for all the encouragement. I'm so lucky to count you both among my friends. ❤️
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I'm going to do weekly updates for this one, so I hope you stick around for the ride. Nobody does self-loathing quite like Sylvain, but there's a light at the end of this tunnel.
> 
> Story title comes from _Hang With Me_ by Robyn.


	2. I'm afraid of losing everything I'm ruining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years ago, Sylvain sank a lifelong friendship in a single afternoon.

Nobody told summer it was almost over.

Faced with unbearable heat and no cloud cover, Felix and Sylvain had no choice but to lounge in Sylvain’s swimming pool until their shadows stretched all the way to the tile at the far end. It took three sunscreen reapplications to keep Felix from burning, but they did it. They wasted the entire day.

It was perfect. 

Knowing days like these were numbered made them all the sweeter. Sylvain could do without the heat wave, but he didn’t know what he was going to do without Felix. 

Still in their swimsuits, they stretched out on the bedroom floor, waterlogged and worn from the sunshine. 

“Maybe I just won't go to college,” Felix muttered. “Do people still hire mercenaries? How do I break into that?”

“I dunno. Put out some feelers on the dark web or something.” Sylvain shifted back and forth on his rug, but the fibers bit into his back. Maybe he should have taken Felix up on that second layer of sunscreen. But something else was off. Felix had been ready to move to Enbarr from the moment he got his acceptance letter. “Why?” Sylvain asked. “Having second thoughts about engineering?”

Felix rolled to face him. “I picked it because I don’t want to work with other people, but Glenn said the way to make money is to get an MBA and move into management.” He spat the words out like they tasted bad.

“You’d make a pretty shit manager,” Sylvain conceded. Felix was a good enough team player on the soccer field, but any time he had to delegate, he just ended up storming off and doing everything himself. “Besides, who cares about money? It’s not like you need it.”

“Fuck that,” Felix snarled. “Maybe you have no problem living off your parents forever, but I’m going to make my own way.”

“Come on, that’s not fair! I’m in school.” Yes, Sylvain’s parents were loaded and Sylvain still lived at home, but he was working toward a degree. He just didn’t know which one yet.

Felix clicked his tongue. “Barely. You're just spinning the wheels so you don’t have to get on with your life.”

“You’re the one who wanted to become an assassin for hire,” said Sylvain, reaching out to give him a gentle nudge.

Felix shoved back harder. “At least it’s a source of income.”

“It’s blood money, but sure, whatever you say.” Sylvain tried to shake him off, but what Felix lacked in size, he made up for in speed and determination. 

Felix pounced. He outpowered Sylvain’s half-assed swipes of protest and pinned him to the floor by his wrists. Sunscreen and chlorine invaded Sylvain’s nose as he counted the seconds, one to ten, in his head. Felix had never been strong enough to hold him down for a full count when they were kids. Maybe the only difference now was that Sylvain was a willing captive.

“At least I’d be helping people.” Felix spread his thighs to trap Sylvain’s waist. His hair hung in dark, wild waves around his face. “What was that bullshit class you took last semester?”

Sylvain struggled beneath him for show, trying not to think about how thin their swimsuits were. They hadn’t wrestled like this in years, but now if felt more like feisty foreplay than childish roughhousing. He had to put a lid on his animal reaction; Felix would kill him if he popped a boner. 

“Glassblowing.”

Felix groaned and rolled off of him. “What a waste of time.” 

Whether he was talking about glassblowing or grappling, he didn’t say. Sylvain adjusted his swimsuit. It wasn’t his fault Sylvain was so horny, at least not directly. Spending every waking moment together this summer meant he hadn’t had a lot of sex, and if his eyes happened to linger on the sharp lines of Felix’s abdomen, Felix didn’t notice.

Enbarr Polytech seemed further away by the second.

“College isn’t so bad.” Sylvain said it for his benefit as much as Felix’s. “It’s more interesting than high school, that’s for sure. And it’s a whole new dating pool.”

He was hoping for a disgusted noise, and Felix delivered. “Is that all you ever think about?” 

“Nope.” Sylvain smirked at him. “I also think about sex.”

Felix groaned and sat up, then hugged his legs to his chest. That reaction was a lot less satisfying.

Sylvain rose too, scooting toward Felix. “I was just joking.”

Felix said nothing. He didn’t even move. 

“Hey.” Sylvain touched his shoulder. “You okay?”

Felix finally answered, his voice quiet. “Do you have any regrets?”

“Uhh...” Sylvain’s hand shook and he pulled it back. “Sure. I regret hanging around this dump every day, but you already knew that.”

“So leave already.” Felix glared at him. Did Felix always have those dark circles under his eyes or was it just the long day wearing on him? “There’s nothing stopping you. You could go to any school you wanted if you weren’t so fucking lazy.”

Sylvain’s skin prickled. “Not all of us can be as brave as you are, okay?” 

Felix’s eyes went wide, doing wonders for the lines on his face. “Me? Going away to school doesn’t make me brave, it makes me…” A frustrated groan garbled the rest of his sentence.

Sylvain planted his hands firmly on Felix’s bare shoulders. “It’s okay to be nervous. Moving away is a big deal, but you’re going to be fine. You’re going to tackle it head on, just like you do every other challenge life throws your way.”

Fear spiked in Felix’s eyes, like a cornered cat. Sylvain let him go.

“How am I supposed to go off on my own if I can’t even—if I never—”

It wasn’t easy to listen to Felix grope for words. Sylvain fell back on his strengths. Easy smiles, charming quips—much as Felix protested, he wasn’t immune. “C’mon, Felix. Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything.”

It worked; Felix went off like a bomb.

“I’m not like you, okay? I’ve had the same three friends since the day I was born. I can’t make new ones. I don’t whore myself out like you. I’ve never even had sex!”

His confession bounced around the barren walls and hardwood floors of Sylvain’s house.

Sylvain knew Felix was a virgin, but he had no idea it bothered him. Felix had always been terrified of being left behind, sure, but Sylvain thought that only applied to sports and school. And he definitely wasn’t “saving himself for marriage” like Ingrid and Glenn; he just never seemed interested. 

Sylvain crossed his legs and put his hands on his knees. “There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, you know.” 

Lots of college freshmen were 18-year-old virgins, but Sylvain kept that morsel of trivia to himself. Felix definitely didn’t want to hear about his experiences with sorority pledges.

Felix curled his lip. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve had more sex than anyone in Faerghus.”

“I don’t know about _anyone.”_ Sylvain wasn’t ashamed and he didn’t care what other people thought about him, but Felix wasn’t _other people._

“Yeah, well, I haven’t even been on a date.” Felix’s voice came out strained and he turned away. “Forget I said anything. This is humiliating.”

“Felix…” Sylvain edged closer. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of, either.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Felix played his part in their dance, scooting back and crossing his arms. “You had your first girlfriend at 13.”

Sylvain’s heart sank. “Yeah, well, you have a family that loves you and a brother who's a good, decent guy.” How many nights had Sylvain spent at the Fraldarius house, wishing he could live there instead? Felix and Glenn had their spats, but before Miklan died, the Gautier house was a powder keg. After, it was like Miklan never existed, and Sylvain was just a disappointing blip on his parents’ radar. The silence was much better than the explosions, but there were some voids girlfriends couldn’t fill. “Sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

He didn’t have to say anything else. 

Felix expelled the tension in shoulders with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I guess I just want to know what it’s like.”

“What, sex?” Sylvain raised his eyebrows. Why hadn’t Felix mentioned it before? “I mean, you’ve touched yourself, right? It’s a lot like that.”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “Of course I have, idiot. Even I know it’s not the same.”

Wasn’t it? Sex with other people was objectively better, sure, but only because they could reach places Sylvain couldn’t reach by himself. There was a certain pride in getting someone else off, and in bragging about it later. But Sylvain couldn’t remember a single encounter that had netted him anything more than a good story. His favorite memories weren’t sexual at all. They were of days like today.

Maybe he was onto something. Felix wanted a relationship, not a hookup. 

“Well, you’ve got a week left before you leave. Plenty of time to find you a girlfriend!” It wouldn’t be hard; Felix was a good looking guy (even with his nostrils flared and all his teeth showing). 

“What is it with you and girls?!” Felix snarled. 

“Okay, a boyfriend, then?” Come to think of it, Sylvain didn’t actually know. In all the years they’d been friends, Felix hadn’t expressed more than a passing attraction to anyone. Not even celebrities. 

“Why are you like this?” Felix balled his shaking hands and screwed his eyes shut. His cheeks were bright red. “I don’t want to have sex with some stranger, I want to have sex with you!” 

Felix’s admission shook Sylvain so hard he expected his books to fall off the shelves, but all he could say was, “Oh.” 

“Forget I said anything.” Felix shot to his feet and straightened his shorts. “I’m leaving. This is stupid.”

Touching him hadn’t worked yet, but this time, Sylvain grabbed Felix by the hand. “No it isn’t.” 

Felix froze. Slowly, he looked down at their joined hands, as if he didn’t recognize them.

“It’s not stupid.” Sylvain squeezed his fingers tight. “Please don’t leave.”

Felix was still in shock, but he ran the pad of his thumb over the back of Sylvain’s hand and sat back down. 

As usual, Sylvain filled the silence. “So you want to have sex”—he kept his voice low so as not to spook Felix (or himself)—“with me.”

“Don’t make me say it again.” Felix’s flush spread beyond his face, past his neck, and bloomed down his chest. “You’ve slept with so many people, what’s one mo—”

Sylvain pressed a finger to Felix’s lips to cut him off.

“Be nice, Felix.” His voice came out lower than he expected, but Felix fell silent. “Remember what you’re asking.”

Had Sylvain ever touched his lips before? They were chapped from sunlight and a general disinterest in personal care, but thick. With a little lip balm ( _or saliva,_ supplied Sylvain’s dirty mind) they could be juicy.

Just a wisp of Felix’s breath knocked Sylvain’s hand back into to his own lap. Of course he’d noticed how hot Felix had gotten over the years—he took it upon himself to remind Felix of that fact every chance he got—but sleeping with Felix had never crossed his mind before. Now that the idea was out there, he was more than a little curious. 

“Okay. How do you want to do it?” Felix didn’t reply, and words tumbled out of Sylvain’s mouth. “We don’t have to get naked unless you want to. Dry humping still counts as sex. Or we could just touch each other, like jerk each other off? Oh, I know! I could teach you how to give a blowjob, then you can practice on me.” 

Felix’s eyes bulged like he’d rather die. 

“Or not,” Sylvain said. But Felix didn’t tell him to stop. “There are other things we could do. One time I lubed a girl’s thighs up real good and just went to town. That was pretty nice.”

Felix paled and Sylvain’s brain skidded to a halt. Maybe he had changed his mind. 

“Or we don’t have to do anything at all!” That was fine, and way less awkward. “Say the word and I’ll forget this ever happened. We can watch a movie.” One without sex scenes. Or kissing scenes. Or humans.

“No.” Steely determination gleamed in Felix’s eyes and seized Sylvain deep inside, like when they used to line up for a soccer pass. Sylvain’s heart floundered. Had Felix ever looked at him like that off the field before? "I want this."  


Sylvain’s hands went clammy like  _ he _ was the virgin. What was his problem? It was just sex. He did it all the time. He forced his shoulders to relax, exhaling in a feeble attempt to recover some swagger. “Well, what if we just kiss and, you know, see where things go?”

Felix’s gaze softened and Sylvain’s heart dipped into his gut. A strange ache settled in his chest, like he was forgetting something important. 

“That could work.” Felix swallowed and looked down at his lap. Silent seconds ticked by before he met Sylvain’s eyes again. “Have you ever been with a guy before?”

“Yeah.” Sylvain had slept with far more women than men, but he had enough experience to know what to do. 

Felix’s face blanked. Had Sylvain never told him that before? He always assumed Felix didn’t care about any of his sexual exploits, but he was learning all kinds of new things today. 

“All the way?”

Sylvain couldn’t believe his ears and Felix wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“You mean anal?” Felix nodded, a tiny twitch of his chin, and Sylvain went on. “Yeah, I’ve done it. But we don’t have to.” He hadn’t mentioned it earlier, hadn’t even thought of it, not when there were so many other options that wouldn’t permanently alter their friendship. 

“I want to.” Felix barely spoke above a whisper, but it split Sylvain’s chest in two. 

“You do?” 

Felix nodded, and cold sweat beaded at Sylvain’s forehead. He groped for a reply. “But it’s not really a spur of the moment thing, especially—”

“I know. I’m fine.”

Sylvain wasn’t ready to process that information. “Okay, but you know it might hurt even if we’re careful, right? Even if we go really slow.” And goddess, Sylvain did not want to hurt Felix. 

“I know that, too,” Felix said, louder. “I’ve done it by myself. With a…” His voice faltered. “You know.”

“With a dildo?!” Sylvain almost choked. 

Felix narrowed his eyes. “Like you can judge me. I get sick just thinking about all the disgusting things you’ve done.”

“I’m not judging you! I’m just surprised! Impressed, actually. And kinda turned on.” He didn’t elaborate, but picturing Felix  _ doing it by himself _ was distracting to say the least. 

Something flashed across Felix’s face, but it was gone before it landed, replaced by a familiar snarl. “Then what’s the problem? I know you keep a condom in your wallet. And one in your shoe. And more in your nightstand.” Felix’s frown deepened with every fact he stated. “You probably order lube in bulk.”

“Hey, you’re making me sound like some kind of sex fiend! I buy normal amounts of lube like everyone else, and I get tested.”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “I know. I went with you to the clinic last week, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Sylvain’s car had a flat tire so Felix had given him a ride. The nurse assumed they were dating and Felix got so mad. He was making that same face now.

“And?” 

“Negative, Felix.” Sylvain reached for his phone on the floor beside him. “Do you want to see the results?”

“I believe you,” Felix muttered. “Assuming you kept it in your pants last week.”

Sylvain waved at him. “Does my hand count?”

“Ugh.” Felix pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t even know why I…” He ran his hand down his face instead of finishing his thought, then started over. “Look, take me up on it or don't, it’s your choice.”

It sounded like a threat, but Sylvain knew better. He took a few deep breaths and tried to picture it: making out on his bed, taking his time getting Felix good and ready. Although...what would Felix look like preparing himself? Eyes closed, mouth open—what noises would he make? And how would it feel to disappear into him inch by inch? Oh shit, what would it be like to watch Felix sink down on him from above? 

This was getting out of hand. Sylvain swallowed and glanced at Felix. Could he tell what Sylvain had been thinking?

For his part, Felix was staring at nothing, mouth turned down and eyes wide. Curious.

Sylvain moved closer to him until their knees touched, then flattened his palm over Felix’s heart. Faint beats kissed his hand, steady and slow. In time with Sylvain’s. Their eyes met.

“I’ll make it good for you,” said Sylvain. “I promise.”

That fire was back, multiplied tenfold because Felix never did anything halfway. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Sylvain did it with a smile.

The dry kiss lit a dynamite fuse up Sylvain’s spine and coiled around his belly. He thought he might have to teach Felix how to do this, too, but Felix kept his lips soft and pliant, responding to Sylvain’s every move. Before he realized it, Felix had taken the lead.

Same old Felix, refusing to fall behind. 

Sylvain tried to recover, but ever-eager Felix took it as an invitation to open up. 

One word dominated Sylvain’s brain:  _ Juicy.  _ Felix was a ravenous kisser—a natural, balancing teeth and tongue with the same precision he brought to every task. Desperate to get closer, Sylvain tangled his fingers in Felix’s hair and pulled him in. Felix must have needed it too; he rose to his knees and pressed his bare chest to Sylvain’s. Sylvain slid his hands down Felix’s back, over soft, warm skin, and thought,  _ I could do this forever.  _

On some level, Sylavin knew they’d spun out of control the moment their lips touched. The edge of a waterfall loomed in the distance and they were headed straight for it, rocks at the bottom be damned, but all he could think about was how sunscreen was definitely going to make him horny from now on. 

Felix fucked like he fought, seizing first blood with a hand on Sylvain’s cock through his shorts. There was no use pretending the ridiculous moan Sylvain let out was just for encouragement, and he half expected Felix to give him shit about it. It got him kissed instead.

The floor was fine for stroking each other, but Felix deserved more and Sylvain wanted to do this right. He murmured an invitation between open-mouthed kisses on Felix’s jaw: “Take it to the bed?” 

Felix rose to his feet. He pulled Sylvain with him by the hand but when Sylvain took a step toward the bed, Felix didn’t move. 

Sylvain looked back and swooned; Felix, flushed and breathless, hair absolutely wrecked, with one hand hovering at the waistband of his trunks.

Sylvain covered that trembling hand with his own. “We’ll go slow,” he promised. “You say  _ stop _ and we stop.” 

That look, so tender, so trusting, squeezed Sylvain’s heart tight, but before he could process it, Felix was lowering his shorts. He stepped out of them and left them crumpled on the floor.

Sylvain did the same, but he couldn’t resist a peek—Felix was gorgeous, perfect from head to toe. 

But Felix didn’t notice Sylvain’s gasp. He was too busy straight up ogling Sylvain’s dick. Sylvain couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. Was he impressed? Afraid it wouldn’t fit? 

Felix expelled a shaky breath and his jaw stuttered open. Pushing his own nerves aside, Sylvain served Felix a smirk. “Bigger than your dildo?” 

Just like he wanted, Felix glared up at him. “You’re obnoxious. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but you love it.” 

And with that, they were kissing again, moving to the bed as one. Care, touch, and time soothed the burn, both in Felix’s body and Sylvain’s heart, and neither dared to question how easily everything fell into place. They were already buried deep in each other, lives inextricably tangled—coming together physically was only natural. 

But even that knowledge couldn’t prepare Sylvain for the moment Felix truly let go. Black eclipsed the last ring of amber in his eyes and his lips parted around silent prayers, like he saw the goddess herself in Sylvain. It was impossible, even laughable, because paradise lived in Felix, in giving him everything he had, in being accepted exactly as he was. 

Strange and wonderful feelings blossomed within Sylvain, ones he didn’t normally associate with sex: trust, love, joy. Only his closest friend could pull him apart and put him back together, better than he was before. Felix clung to his back, and this was all Sylvain wanted, to be someone’s everything. He couldn’t be that for Felix anymore, but just for a moment, he could pretend.

The weight of it didn’t catch up with him until they had drank their pleasure down to the dregs. Post-orgasm clarity splayed their mangled bodies across the jagged rocks, and all Sylvain could do was gape at the carnage. 

He had fucked up pretty badly in his life, but he’d never fucked up quite this badly before. 

They parted in jerky, stiff movements and climbed out of bed. Robotically, Sylvain pitched the condom, Felix cleaned himself up, and they dressed.

When they returned to the bed, they settled on opposite poles. 

Sylvain had fucked his best friend. Cold guilt flooded his stomach—another feeling he’d never associated with sex before. Why did he agree to this? Felix was completely unreadable, and panic flooded Sylvain’s gut.

There was no way Felix had hated it; the sounds and faces he’d made stood as evidence, stirring Sylvain’s gut even now. But the opposite was far scarier, and suddenly Felix’s bizarre expression made sense; those were the beginnings of a smile.

Sylvain was going to be sick. He didn’t know what was worse, Felix’s taste or his timing. Clues and signs slotted into place in Sylvain’s mind: Felix acting shy, wanting to have sex with Sylvain specifically, clinging to him for every second of it.

Felix had a crush on him. How could Sylvain have been so careless? He could ignore his own feelings and pretend like he hadn’t just had the best sex of his life, but knowing how Felix felt put his heart and lungs in a vice. There had to be some kind of mistake. Felix knew better than anyone what a disaster Sylvain was, and on top of that,  _ Felix was leaving.  _ What did he want? A long-distance relationship? Sylvain would end up cheating on Felix whether he wanted to or not.

Felix didn’t deserve that. He deserved someone worthy and faithful, someone who didn’t get on his every nerve. Someone who wouldn’t take advantage of a friend in a moment of weakness. 

A good friend would have said, “You’ll find the right person someday.” That’s what Ingrid or Dimitri would have done. Not Sylvain. Sylvain was the kind of guy who fucked his best friend.

A treacherous voice in Sylvain’s head reminded him that he was assuming a lot. Felix had asked for this, and he was old enough to make his own decisions. He was going away to college, after all. Growing up, unlike Sylvain. 

Sylvain was the one clinging to him now, trying to drag him down and take one last piece of him so no one else could have it. Just another conquest. He would always be Felix’s first. 

That same treacherous voice told Sylvain he had it all wrong, but he ignored it.

Of course the sex had been life-altering. Felix was the most important person in his life, and nothing got him higher than destroying the things he loved. 

Now that he’d claimed his prize, he could move on.

_ Wrong wrong wrong... _

Sylvain knew what he had to do. 

“So,” he began, summoning his happy-go-lucky voice, the one that fooled everyone but Felix. “Was it the best you ever had?”

“I guess it wasn’t terrible.” Felix’s groan tripped Sylvain’s heart, but he stomped out the butterflies.

“That’s the spirit.” Felix would never buy this act, but if Sylvain did it right, it wouldn’t matter. He could shoulder all the blame and spare Felix the humiliation. “I gotta say, Felix, you take a dick like a champ.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sylvain’s plan was working, and Felix ground out a bitter noise. “Forget it. I should have known you’d be disgusting.”

“I’m sure the next person will be more into pillow talk.” Deep down, Sylvain hoped he was right. “But you didn’t ask for the full boyfriend experience.”

Felix shot up and rounded the bed so fast Sylvain’s head spun. “Excuse me?” 

Sylvain tried not to react to the raw edge in Felix’s voice, but it was hard when he was close enough to feel the fire. 

“Quick and dirty. That’s why you wanted me to punch your V-card, right?” Sylvain hated the words coming out of his mouth, but he clung to the shred of truth behind them. “You’re welcome, by the way. You can take some condoms if you want. Like you said, I’ve got hundreds more.”

Gravity fought him, but the least Sylvain could do was look Felix in the eye. He deserved every drop of contempt waiting for him. 

“I can’t believe I had sex with someone so repulsive.”

It was exactly what Sylvain wanted to hear, and it snuffed out his heart. All he could manage was a pathetic, “Hey, you knew what you signed up for.” 

Felix looked down his nose at Sylvain, suddenly ten feet taller and immeasurably nobler. As it should be.

Part of Sylvain wanted Felix to keep ripping into him, to shame him into begging for forgiveness. But Felix just turned and stalked toward the door. 

Sylvain's head fall into his hands. It was better this way. Felix could leave for college angry, ready for a rebound. He deserved better than late stage, sex-prompted feelings that would fizzle the moment he left the room. Sylvain couldn’t be what he needed. He could never make Felix happy.

The silence was louder than the slamming door that never came. He didn’t hear Felix’s telltale stomps down the stairs, either—Felix was still hesitating. Sylvain should have known he was poised to attack. 

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah?” Sylvain pulled his hands down his face to level Felix with a cold glare. “What are you going to do about it?” 

For the first time in his life, Felix let him have the last word. Then again, his footfalls echoing down the hall felt pretty damn final.

Felix got the last laugh, too, because the scent of his sunscreen lingered on the sheets long after he was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _so leave the clothes and mess we made up all on the floor_  
>  _'cause when we put them on we're not in love anymore_  
>  _'cause I know, when we go_  
>  _we're really gone_  
>  (lyrics and chapter title from _gone_ by verite)
> 
> \---
> 
> Next time, things get worse before they get better. Thanks so much to [Phichithamsters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters) for beta reading this roller coaster of a chapter, and thanks to everyone who reads it here.


	3. the sky'd be falling and I'd hold you tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix's world ends, and Sylvain fulfills a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick warning—Glenn and Miklan are still dead in this AU and this chapter deals with the fallout (see also: that tag)

The hangover after Felix moved away lasted a full year. Classes and hookups passed in a fog, and no one else seemed to notice any difference in Sylvain. 

Nothing broke through the numbness until Dimitri called.

“Been a while, Your Highness.” Sylvain half-assed his greeting. There was no fooling his oldest friends.

The line was silent.

“Dimitri? You there?”

“Glenn’s dead.” No sadness, no regret, no anger. Dimitri was completely blank. But for the first time in months, Sylvain  _ felt. _

His heart spoke for him. “How is Felix?”

“In shock.” 

Of course he was. They all were. Dimitri was a void, and Sylvain’s throat was swelling like an allergic reaction. Goddess, Ingrid would be devastated.

But none of that mattered. Only Felix.

Sylvain hung up on Dimitri and then his fingers were flying through his contacts, lips forming silent prayers that Felix hadn’t changed his number. He reached out anyway.

_ I’m sorry  
Anything you need  
I’m here for you _

Sylvain had a lot more to apologize for, but now wasn’t the time. This was about Felix, not him. 

But Felix never replied. Sylvain went to the funeral anyway. His love for Glenn was bigger than his rift with Felix, and he had to be there in case Felix needed him. 

The difference between Glenn’s funeral and the last one Sylvain attended was staggering.

Miklan’s had been a mere formality, something expected of the Gautier family. Attendance topped out in single digits, and his parents spent most of the time lamenting Sylvain’s college choices as if they only ever had one son. _With our family name and your test scores, you could go somewhere so much more prestigious._

Felix never left his side in that dim, dreary room. He attached himself to Sylvain the moment they got the news that Miklan had been found dead in the street, thousands of miles away. No one shed a tear at the sight of his frail, scabbed corpse in that casket, and to this day Sylvain didn’t hate his brother any less, but it was a grim way to die. Felix and Sylvain had grieved alone, because no one else understood what Sylvain had lost. What he never had. 

Glenn’s funeral was standing room only. Sunlight illuminated the patterned upholstery of the funeral home, and the crowd forwent the convention of all black attire in favor of shades of blue. All around Sylvain, people were crying, hugging, and sharing memories about Glenn.

It was funny. Glenn and Miklan were both assholes. They swore like sailors and spoke without thinking, but unlike Miklan, Glenn had a conscious and a sense of humor. Glenn teased; Miklan belittled. Glenn apologized when he went too far; Miklan didn’t. 

And now they were both gone. Sylvain and Felix were brotherless, and they sure as hell weren’t brothers themselves.

Sylvain had plenty of memories of Glenn, but he wasn’t ready to share them yet. No one wanted to hear anything but sunshine and war heroics, and Sylvain wouldn’t say a word until he knew if Felix was okay. 

Assuming he ever would be.

Where was he? Sylvain wouldn’t bother him if he didn’t want to talk. Just one look at him would be enough to see how he was really doing.

“Oh, Sylvain…” 

It wasn’t Felix, but Sylvain would know that voice anywhere. He turned around to wrap Ingrid in a tight hug. 

“I’m so sorry, Ingrid,” he said into her hair. 

“He was supposed to come home next month.” Ingrid could barely get the words out, and Sylvain pulled her closer. She could stay there as long as she wanted.

“He would have wanted to go out this way,” someone said behind them, “defending his country like a hero.”

A sob wracked Ingrid’s body and Sylvain bit his tongue. He wasn’t about to make a scene at a funeral, but he was pretty sure Glenn didn’t want to die at all, not until he was old and gray and had witnessed the birth of his 90th great-grandchild. Glenn always said he wanted a ton of kids. Mostly to play pranks on, but still. 

_ Did he die a virgin? _

The thought whipped through Sylvain’s head, unwelcome and entirely inappropriate. He wouldn’t ask, of course, but Glenn and Ingrid had always taken abstinence so seriously—another difference between Miklan and Glenn, or perhaps between Gautier and Fraldarius. 

Then again, Felix wouldn’t die a virgin. Sylvain must have flinched because Ingrid pulled away.

“I’m sorry.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I got your shirt wet.”

“It’s fine,” said Sylvain, giving her arm a squeeze. _I’m sorry I disgraced your dead boyfriend’s memory. And his brother._

A tight coil of dark hair by the door caught Sylvain’s eye. Felix turned around and Sylvain’s heart cracked wide open; he was the spitting image of his father, minus the beard. Felix always looked a little tired, but Glenn’s death etched his sallow, too-pale face with lines he was far too young for. One look and Sylvain could tell he was barely getting by. 

Felix caught him staring and glared back.

Anger brought color to his cheeks and life to his eyes, and it was a relief. At least hate was an emotion. It wasn’t like Sylvain was going to get a hug, but Felix acknowledged him. That was enough.

When Felix started his way, Sylvain’s knees almost gave out. “Felix, I—”

“Don’t.” Sylvain shut his mouth on command. “Pay your respects to Glenn and get out of my sight.”

And then he was gone. 

Sylvain looked over to Glenn’s closed casket.  _ Sorry I failed you,  _ he thought. _ Sorry you didn’t make it back home. _

Sitting through the funeral was a test. Eulogy after eulogy lauded Glenn’s death, as if dying in battle was the most noble thing he could have done. Sylvain’s mind and eyes kept drifting, inevitably landing on Felix. He looked far too good in a suit for this occasion. His mother must have made him wear the tie; Felix hated them, but he didn’t fuss with it.

The moment the service was over, Felix vanished, only reappearing when it was time to bury Glenn. Felix looked straight ahead as he picked up the casket handle, and so did Sylvain, right behind him. 

Together with Felix’s cousins and Dimitri, they moved Glenn to his final resting place. Felix disappeared the moment it was done, so Sylvain just stood next to Dimitri with his head bowed, both of their backs to the wind.

Rodrigue insisted Sylvain and his family come to the wake after. One drink, Sylvain reasoned. He’d have one drink at this restaurant and then he’d leave.

He didn’t expect a strong hand to yank him into the coat room on his way out.

Sylvain should have turned around and left. He knew exactly who that hand belonged to, but Felix’s red, puffy eyes stopped him in his tracks. Sylvain couldn’t turn his back now. 

Felix steeled his glare. “Don’t say anything.” 

Then, Felix attacked, a snarling cyclone of teeth and dried tears. Sylvain put his arms up to defend himself, but it was too little, too late. Salty lips crushed his own in a knockout blow. 

Sylvain’s mind blanked. If this was his fate, well, there were worse ways to go. But something felt off, and Sylvain snapped out of it. He pushed Felix away. “What are you doing?”

“I said not to talk!” Felix dove back in, this time for Sylvain's neck. Pain and pleasure exploded beneath his skin as Felix sucked too hard on his pulse point. If he was trying to drain Sylvain’s will, it wouldn’t take much.

“Stop.” Sylvain detached Felix once more and firmed up his voice. “You’re grieving, Felix. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel!” The words burst out of Felix, so loud his family must have heard him next door. “You have no fucking clue.” 

“Then talk to me.” Sylvain put his hands out like a peace offering, but Felix was wild, feral-eyed like never before. 

“I don’t want to fucking talk!” Felix blew past Sylvain’s defenses to clench a fistful of his shirt. “All I want is to not feel like shit for one fucking second!” 

There was no shame in wanting comfort. But if he was asking for what Sylvain thought he was, that was a road to ruin and regret. Maybe arousing Sylvain’s anger would be enough.

“Losing somebody feels like shit, okay?” Sylvain’s hands shook, but he didn’t back down. “It never goes away, but someday you won’t feel like shit all the time. Don’t do something you’ll regret just because you’re in the thick of it.”

Felix’s deep, ragged breaths filled a too-long silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was deadly. “You lied to me.” 

He strode forward. Sylvain stepped back. They could only repeat the process so many times before Sylvain’s ass hit a shelf. He was cornered.

“You said you’d be there for me,” Felix went on, seething. “You said  _ anything I needed.”  _ So Felix had seen his texts. Quieter but no less dangerous, he finished with, “You said you wouldn’t judge me.”

Sylvain remembered saying that, too, back in his room wearing nothing but swimsuits and naked honesty. “I’m not. I know you’re hurting, but—”

“Glenn was my _brother._ ” Felix’s shoulders shuddered with barely contained sobs and Sylvain understood. No amount of rage could hide the fact that Felix was terrified without Glenn. After everything Felix had been through, the least Sylvain could do was be his punching bag. 

After everything Sylvain had done, he deserved it. 

“I know,” Sylvain said. “And I want to be here for you like you were there for me.”

In a flash, the fear was gone. Fire dried the fresh tears in his eyes and Sylvain flinched under his glare. 

“Don’t you dare.” Hot breath and saliva hit Sylvain’s face but he stood his ground and let Felix berate him. “Miklan was a piece of shit. He was dead to you for _years_ before they found his rotting corpse. So don’t pretend like you understand when you fucking _don’t!”_

The words stabbed with the cold precision of a scalpel. Ever since they were kids, Felix had been far too quick with cruel retorts. After all this time Sylvain thought himself immune, but he was out of practice. Felix was right, but Sylvain loved Glenn, too. Not like Felix did, but like the brother he’d never had. The brother Miklan should have been. Sylvain had plenty to mourn, both then and now. 

But it didn’t matter. Sylvain took each verbal blow and kept his mouth shut because Felix was hurting, and Felix came first.

Felix needed this, and Sylvain still wanted Felix to need him.

“My dad is consumed with how  _ Dimitiri’s _ processing everything,” Felix ground out. “With how  _ Ingrid’s _ going to go on. And he won’t shut up about what a fucking hero Glenn was, as if his death is good for our fucking family. Like I should go die for my country, too.”

Just like back at the funeral. Only one day and Sylvain was tired of hearing it; Felix must have been exhausted. “That’s bullshit.” 

“I hate it.”

Felix’s words hung, bitter and heavy in the stale, dusty air of the coat room.

“I don’t care how anyone else is handling it,” Sylvain finally said. Ingrid and Dimitri were his friends and Rodrigue was a good man, but in that moment, it wasn’t a lie. “I only care about you.”

Felix looked away. “Save your lines for your bimbos.” 

“It’s not a line and you know it.”

Silence stretched for seconds before a frustrated grunt burst from Felix’s throat. “Why are you always so—”

Felix cut himself off and dove in for another vicious kiss. What he lacked in venom he made up for with height, and before Sylvain could stop himself, he was spinning Felix around, lifting him onto the shelf, squeezing his thighs, biting his lip...

_ Fuck. _

Tearing himself away hurt, and not just because of Felix’s iron grip. Sylvain’s shirt had come untucked—those scratches would last for days—but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Especially not today.

In silence, their heartbeats slowed. Their breathing steadied. 

“My dick’s not going to fix it, Felix.” Sylvain wished it would. 

“Not if you won’t even fucking try.”

Of course Felix was still mad. Sylvain should have stayed calm; he was always the cool head to Felix’s short fuse, but he couldn’t take much more of this.

“Where would it leave us?” Sylvain countered. “We fuck, we go home, we don’t talk for another year? Longer? You’re still going to feel like shit.”

He would probably feel worse. Sylvain sure would.

For a moment, Felix stood there, seething. Not getting his way always made him furious and Sylvain braced for impact, but when Felix moved, it was to melt into his arms. Sylvain pulled him to his chest automatically, hugging him tight. This wasn’t crossing a line; this was fine, this was what he wanted all along...

“I don’t care about then,” Felix muttered into his shirt. “I need you now.”

Sylvain said nothing, but surely Felix could feel the violent tempo of his heart. Did Felix know it beat for him and him alone, every day since he stormed out of Sylvain’s life? 

Something cold touched his hand and Sylvain looked down. He couldn’t believe his eyes; Felix had slipped him a condom and a familiar bottle of lube. “How did you—”

“You still don’t lock your car.” Felix’s voice dripped with resentment, but then he was pressing his lips to Sylvain’s neck and whispering  _ please, please... _

One year later and nothing had changed. 

Sylvain would hate himself for it later (he hated himself now) but this was better than nothing. After all, Felix was going to walk out of his life again no matter what, so they might as well burn out bright. He pulled Felix’s tie loose and kissed his lips. 

The kiss didn’t last long. Too soon, Felix broke it to shove his pants down. Of course he didn’t want Sylvain’s affection—just his cock. Who was Sylvain to deny him? Felix’s slacks got caught on one of his shoes like he couldn’t undress fast enough, and Sylvain had barely gotten his own zipper down when Felix yanked him out of his underwear and started stroking him dry. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel good. Still, Felix was the one who needed attention. He could have done anything and Sylvain would have lapped it up like a starving dog. 

At least sitting on the shelf put Felix at a good angle for fucking. With just one slick finger inside, Felix was already murmuring in Sylvain's ear, unraveling him with every plea. 

“Slow down,” Sylvain urged, even as he pushed a second finger in to speed up his pitiful attempt at foreplay. But that still wasn’t enough—Felix shoved his own fingers in alongside Sylvain’s to open himself wide. Hissing, Felix rushed into a rhythm Sylvain couldn’t keep up with. All he could do was grab Felix by the waist and hold on tight.

Their first time, so careful and slow, seemed like a lifetime ago. Who else Felix had done this with? Before Sylvain could guess, Felix yanked both of their hands out, ripped open the condom, and rolled it on to Sylvain’s cock. 

One last time, Sylvain asked, “Are you sure?”

Felix didn’t look up as he slathered Sylvain in lube. “Are you?”

“I’m sure.” Sure that Felix would be the death of him.

Felix locked his legs around Sylvain’s waist, grabbed him by the dick, and—

“Sylvain.” Dimitri’s sharp voice cut through the memory (and Sylvain’s sentence). “That's enough.”

If looks could kill, Sylvain would be dead. “Sorry.”

Dimitri shook his head and swallowed hard, like he was trying to rid his mouth of a bad taste. “You slept with Felix at Glenn’s funeral?”

“ _After_ Glenn’s funeral.” Not that the correction exonerated Sylvain. He hung his head. “I’m not proud of it, okay?”

“That just means you knew better.” Sylvain couldn't argue with that, but Dimitri’s tone left him unsettled. Dimitri hadn’t been there in that coat room, listening to Felix beg for an escape. 

“I’m not defending what happened, but don’t pretend like Felix was some kid who couldn’t make his own decisions. We were both adults, and we made those mistakes together.”

Dimitri chewed on that while Sylvain finished the glass of water he'd abandoned the night before.

“I can’t pretend to understand your relationship with Felix.” With a humorless laugh, Dimitri added, “Or Felix, for that matter.”

Sylvain frowned. “You know him better than you think. You guys still talk all the time, don’t you?” He was too ashamed to admit how he knew.

“Yes.” But Dimitri didn’t look thrilled about it. “I get to enjoy his, er, colorful commentary on all my photos online.” Sylvain saw then all. Felix’s comments were blunt at best and insulting at worst. 

“You know that’s just the way he is,” said Sylvain. “He cares about you.”

“He has a funny way of showing it.”

Sylvain wasn’t sure how they had gotten here, him reassuring Dimitri, but talking about something other than his own problems was a relief. “Weren’t you listening? His dad’s always worrying about you. Felix gets jealous.”

“Felix and his father are close. They text each other all the time.”

That was true, and Sylvain felt a little better. At least Felix had Dimitri and Rodridgue. Oh, and his pixie-haired girlfriend. He was fine. He didn’t need Sylvain dragging him down. 

But he could help Dimitri understand Felix, and that was something. 

“And you still meet his dad for dinner every Friday.” Sylvain pointed to a picture of the two of them on the wall. They’d been meeting for dinner every week since Dimitri’s parents died. “He treats you like another son. Like a replacement Glenn.”

Dimitri’s eyebrows knitted. “No, he doesn’t.”

Of course Dimitri didn't notice. “It’s not your fault. You’re a born leader, like Glenn was.”  _ Like Felix isn’t, _ Sylvain didn’t say. “Of course Rodrigue wants to help you. And Felix doesn’t really hold it against you. Actually, it’s kind of a good thing.”

“Is it?”

“Look at it this way: Felix spent his whole life trying to catch up to you and Glenn. He needs that kind of motivation. It inspires him.”

Dimitri’s eyes lifted; it finally clicked. He pursed his lips. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” Sylvain was so far behind Felix and Dimitri he didn’t matter. “I'm just a reminder of how far he's come.” 

Dimitri gave him a strange look. “But you love him.”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t some great epiphany. Sylvain had loved Felix for a long time. “I don’t see why that matters.”

“It matters.” That was Dimitri’s leader voice. It was just as inspiring as always—almost enough to make Sylvain believe. “Have you told him?”

Sylvain shrugged. “He knows.” 

He said as much the day their friendship ended:  _ Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.  _ Sylvain tortured himself with those words all the time. Felix knew Sylvain loved him. At one point, Felix had even loved him back. But not anymore. Sylvain had made damn sure of that. 

“Besides, he has a girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend,” Dimitri repeated flatly. “Felix?”

“He was with a cute girl last night.” Dimitri raised an eyebrow, but he hadn’t been there last night to see the way Felix and the girl had relaxed in each other’s presence. Anyone in the room could tell they were good for each other.

Felix deserved to be with someone who made him feel something more than anger. 

“Well, the fact is, he texted you. He was obviously there to see you. I think you owe it to him to reply.” Dimitri had a point, but then he had the nerve to add, “You two were friends once. If you had a chance to get back to that, why wouldn’t you give it a shot?"

Sylvain couldn’t think of an argument, and under Dimitri’s watchful eye, he typed his reply. 

_ Did you want to talk? _

Before Sylvain could blink, Felix was answering. Sylvain’s heart lurched as he waited.

_ too late _

Sylavin squeezed his phone so tight his knuckles hurt, but it was nothing compared to the heartache. He deserved it for getting his hopes up. How could he be so naive to think—

The pending message animation popped up again and Sylvain held his breath like the damn fool he was.

_ already driving back to school _

Sylvain exhaled in one big puff. He couldn't stop himself from answering.

_ Don’t text and drive! _

Felix’s voice was clear as day in his head as he read the reply.

_ don’t text me if you know I’m driving dickhead  
_ _ besides I’m not _

Right. His girlfriend. They must have ridden together. Sylavin’s heart crashed again; Felix was really going to destroy him. 

A bang echoed from the kitchen, then, “Oh, goodness me!” Dimitri must have dropped something. Sylvain hadn’t even noticed he’d left.

It was funny, how Dimitri could still be so sweet and gentle after everything he’d been through. Did Dimitri ever swear? It didn’t matter. Either way, Sylvain was glad they were still friends. Foolish or not, it gave him hope that things with Felix weren’t beyond repair. They’d never be lovers, but maybe they could be friends again.

He extended the olive branch, via text.

_ Oh, your girlfriend is driving? You two look cute together. Sorry I didn’t say hello last night. Got super drunk. _

Felix replied immediately. 

_she's not my girlfriend_  
_I'm gay sylvain_

Sylvain dropped his phone, and unlike Dimitri, he didn’t censor himself when it hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _but if the world was ending, you'd come over, right?  
>  you'd come over and you'd stay the night  
> would you love me for the hell of it?  
> all our fears would be irrelevant  
> _  
> (lyrics and chapter title from if the world was ending by jp saxe ft. julia michaels)
> 
> \---
> 
> This was a pretty heavy chapter so I wanted to leave a little light at the end. Things will continue to look up, I promise. Thanks so much for reading!


	4. just a little bit masochistic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Redemption begins with a phone call.

“Lunchtime,” Sylvain announced, knocking on the door frame to room 706. His favorite patient, Flayn (and her much less fun father, Seteth), looked up. “I had to fight off an angry mob to get it, but I present to you the last fish sandwich!”

Sylvain placed the tray on Flayn’s table with a flourish and she bounced in her hospital bed, chanting, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Settle down, Flayn.” Seteth put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll tear your incision.”

“She’ll be fine! Dr. Eisner’s performed a million appendectomies and no one’s popped a stitch yet!”

“A million,” Seteth echoed. “I find that highly unlikely. She looks like she’s still in residency.”

If Sylvain got paid every time he heard that, he’d already be retired. He could only imagine how annoying it was for Byleth. “All right, you caught me. Flayn is lucky appendectomy number 86. Dr. Eisner just happens to be blessed with brains  _ and  _ youthful beauty.” He winked at Flayn. “Sort of like someone else I know.” 

She giggled and bit into her sandwich with gusto. “It’s so good! I’m going to miss these when I have to go home.”

“Well, you’re welcome to come back and eat with me in the cafeteria any time you want,” said Sylvain. “My treat.”

He felt Seteth’s death glare before he saw it. “That’s highly inappropriate.” 

“Oh, Father, he was only joking.” Flayn said it through a mouthful of food and Seteth admonished her to chew more carefully.

Concerned parents came with the territory, and Sylvain took it all in stride. He flipped through her charts while he waited for Seteth to finish his lecture. “Everything looks great, Flayn. I’m going to miss you, but I don’t see any reason you won’t be able to go home tonight.”

“Yay!” Flayn bounced again, and even Seteth cracked a smile. Probably his first ever.

“Excellent. Will the doctor be in to check again?”

“She’ll make her rounds within the hour. Call if you need anything. You’ve got my number.” He threw in another wink for good measure.

Seteth and Flayn’s argument echoed into the hall, but Sylvain picked up speed as he headed for the nurses’ station. It was almost his break. Almost time to text Felix.

Conversation had been stilted—just _how are your classes?_ and _how’s work?_ —since that morning in Dimitri’s apartment. Coming out wasn’t a come on, but it did open the door to communication. That was enough for Sylvain; he didn’t expect forgiveness or any semblance of romance. Part of him would always love Felix, but above all else, he missed his friend. 

Not that they were friends again. It had only been a couple weeks. But Felix was being nice, so Sylvain had to be doing something right for once.

“You look happy,” said Mercedes when he got back to the nurses’ station. 

“Of course I am, I’m looking at you.” His response was automatic, and he slapped an even wider grin on his face.

Mercedes shook her head. “No, you never smile at me like that.”

“No one smiles at me like that,” muttered Manuela. Sylvain didn’t miss the pointed look she sent him from the counter. Lonely, desperate, stacked, and willing—Dr. Manuela Casagranda ticked all the boxes, and if they’d met two months ago, he’d have wasted no time nailing her in the call room.

But lately he just wasn’t feeling it. Porn kept him plenty satisfied, and if one of the guys—because Sylvain was heavily favoring gay porn these days—happened to have long, dark hair, well, Felix never had to know about it. Sylvain wasn’t going to ruin their fragile correspondence just because his dick was picky all of a sudden. 

He retrieved his phone and saluted Mercedes and Dr. Casagranda. “Well, ladies, I’ll be on my break.” He didn’t wait for a response.

**Felix**  
**2 hours ago**

The notification released the butterflies in his stomach, which came in endless supply lately. He’d never felt so eager to talk to anyone before, but he tried to keep his expectations in check and let Felix set the pace. If Felix only wanted to be friends, that was more than fine. The prospect of having a friend again—his best friend—made Sylvain giddier than any lover ever had.

_ hannemann is pissing me off  
I don’t care how the brain works I just want to pass physical chemistry _

Sylvain winced. This wasn’t the first time Hannemann had come up. The professor clearly wanted to teach neuroscience and never missed a chance to remind his engineering students how much more he valued medicine. Shaking his head, he typed his reply. 

_ What a dick. P-chem’s enough of a bitch as it is. Let me know if you need help. _

He remembered liking that class, and he didn’t have to wait long to hear what Felix thought.

_ wtf  
did you take it for fun?  
nerd _

Guilty. Sylvain didn’t try to hide it, but most people assumed he was nothing more than a playboy. He didn’t bother correcting them. Physical chemistry wasn’t required for nursing, but taking an extra year to finish college meant he’d had some time in his schedule, so when his advisor recommended it, Sylvain have it a shot. 

It ended up being one of his favorite classes, so good he kept his textbook.

_actually yeah_  
_I need help  
_ _and I’d rather die than go to hanneman’s office hours_

Score! Felix preferred Sylvain over death! That was progress. Bouncing in his seat like Flayn, Sylvain started to type his reply when his screen went black.

Felix’s name appeared and sucked the air from Sylvain’s lungs. Felix was calling. Hands shaking, Sylvain accepted. 

“...Felix?” 

Sylvain didn’t dare breathe, lest he miss even one syllable of the first thing Felix had to say to him in years (other than _no_ ).

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Felix clicked his tongue and it echoed over the line. “Don’t you have caller ID?”

_Oh goddess_ , he sounded exactly the same. Sylvain’s heart turned into hot lava, oozing through his ribs and radiating heat and love to the rest of his body. 

“It’s just been a while,” Sylvain said carefully. 

Felix took his time responding, too. “Yeah, it has.” 

“How are you?” The words came out thick, and with a hiccup Sylvain hoped Felix wouldn’t notice. He wasn’t going to cry in the break room— _he wasn’t_ —but the lump in his throat kept growing. 

“I’m good.” Sylvain resisted the temptation to ask for specifics—was he getting enough sleep? Eating well? Making time for his friends? Seeing someone special? (Okay, he didn’t really want the answer to that one.) “How about you?”

“Just fine.” And it wasn’t a lie. Sylvain existed on a daily basis, filling the time between these conversations with work and sleep and eating leftover takeout in his boxers while watching a show he had seen a hundred times. But Felix probably didn’t want specifics, either. “So, physical chemistry, huh?”

Another tongue click. “I can’t believe you took that class for fun. You’re a masochist.”

If they were still friends, Sylvain would have told Felix to step on his dick and find out, but they weren’t, so he didn’t. “What are you having trouble with?” 

Felix sounded disappointed when he answered, “Harmonic oscillators, I guess.”

Was he looking for help or what? There was no way he’d been looking for an excuse to talk. Sylvain pushed the ridiculous idea aside, focusing instead on remembering the class. It had been a few years. “Is it a specific problem? Read it to me.”

After some shuffling on the other end, Felix recited a word problem, and Sylvain walked him through it.

He didn’t end up needing much help.  _ Curious.  _

“Anyway, I have to go,” Felix said, sounding grouchier than he had at the beginning of the call. 

“Oh.” Sylvain swallowed. “Okay. Well, you can always call if you need more help.” After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “Or anything, Felix. Really.”

“Okay,” said Felix. Then, quieter, “And thanks.” 

It was one of the weirdest phone calls of Sylvain’s life. Did he even need Sylvain’s help at all? Was it too much to hope that Felix had called just to hear Sylvain’s voice? 

Even though the call left a bad taste in his mouth, it got his heart beating a little faster, too. Of course things were awkward, but it was leagues better than their last goodbye.

The funeral. The desperate sex. Clinging to Felix in the silence that followed, afraid to pull out and shatter their fragile truce. Unspoken words hanging in the air as they dressed, sticking in Sylvain’s throat, choking him until long after Felix left.

Those words were only starting to form now— _I don’t want it to end like this. I’m here for you. Don’t leave me. I love you._ If only he could have said them when it mattered. 

It felt like a lifetime ago. And as much as Sylvain hated himself for being so weak, part of him cherished that memory, just like he cherished their first time. What choice did he have? Still, just once, Sylvain wished he could have had sex with Felix just because they wanted to. Because they loved each other. Because they were happy. 

But it wasn’t meant to be. Felix needed catharsis at the funeral. He needed it rough and fast, and he needed to leave it behind. 

Sylvain had fit the bill perfectly. 

Before graduation, Sylvain had been that guy time and time again. Had he ever had sex with anyone just because he loved them? Felix was the closest he’d come. Sylvain had never given it much thought before, but it probably wasn’t healthy.

Dwelling on it now was pointless. The past didn’t matter; he had a chance to be Felix’s friend  _ now,  _ and he’d be a fool to squander it just because he wanted more than he deserved. 

Maybe someday he could sort himself out, but he needed to fix things with Felix first. 

With a heavy sigh, Sylvain pocketed his phone and trudged back out to the hospital floor. 

By some miracle, Felix called him the next night. He didn’t even bother with a greeting. “Okay, so Hermite polynomials—”

“Whoa,” Sylvain cut in. “Buy a guy a drink first.” And he could only say it because he had already had a few, at his house. Alone. But instead of the groan (or the silence of a dead line) he expected for his bad joke, Felix laughed. That little chuckle was music to Sylvain’s ears. His heart gave a thump and he sat up a little straighter, confidence surging. “I’m more than just a brain on legs, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve also got a massive dick, but can it generate Hermite interpolating polynomials?”

Sylvain almost choked on his own spit. Felix was just joking. He wasn’t talking about Sylvain’s actual dick, and it definitely wasn’t a compliment, but it threw him just the same. 

Shit, he needed to say something. Sitting in silence just made it awkward. Why couldn’t he come up with a witty retort? Alcohol had failed him.

“Let me just get my book,” Sylvain said. Tiny grunts hit his ear as he headed for his room, like Felix was groping for words.

“You’re home.” It wasn’t a question, but Felix sounded surprised. “On a Saturday night.”

“So?” 

“And you kept your textbook?” Felix snorted. “Man, you really are a nerd now.”

Now it was Sylvain’s turn to laugh. “You think so? I’m the same old Sylvain.”

“If you say so,” Felix said. “But you’re a real nurse now. You actually went through with it.”

That much was true. He tried to deflect, because it wasn’t that big a deal, but Felix wasn’t done.

“I never got to congratulate you. For graduating.” Felix’s voice was almost too quiet to hear, and Sylvain stopped rifling through his old books. Even his heartbeat was too loud. “That’s why I came to the bar that night. I was in town and I saw the invite on Annette’s profile.”

The last part came out too fast, like Felix was ashamed. At least Sylvain wasn’t the only social media stalker. 

“Sorry I was too drunk to talk to you.” Not that Sylvain would have approached Felix sober, either. 

“Hey, I’m the one apologizing here,” Felix said, louder, more like himself. “I should have just said it to you then. I’m sorry I called you a coward.”

“I deserved it. I watched you all night and didn’t say anything.” Sylvain sighed and added another apology for good measure. 

Felix growled. “Will you stop trying to take all the blame and admit I was a jerk already?”

No one could call Felix a saint, but in their strange, patchwork history together, Sylvain had more amends to make. “Only if you admit I’m a jerk, too.”

“Fine,” Felix muttered. “Have it your way. We’re both jerks. Are you happy now?” 

No. Sylvain hadn’t been happy for a long time. But he wasn’t lying to Felix or himself when he said, “Getting there.”

“Hmm.” That disgruntled little hum went straight to Sylvain’s heart. Felix had always masked his pleasure like that, and no matter how much things had changed, some things stayed the same. 

The silence that followed was downright comfortable. But Felix had called for a reason. 

Sylvain opened his textbook, heart buoyed by pleasant conversation and alcohol. “Well, if you think graduating was impressive, wait until you see me solve equations with my massive dick.” 

A choked laugh cut across the line. “You must have misheard me. I said you  _ are _ a massive dick. There’s a difference.”

“Sure you did, Fe.” The nickname slipped out. Too easy. Dangerous. He almost tacked on a  _ lix  _ but the damage was done. Sylvain steeled himself for the cut off.

“I don’t care what part of your body you use. Just help me derive these functions.”

There was no way Felix missed the relief in Sylvain’s sigh, but he didn’t comment on it. “I can do that,” Sylvain said. 

It ended up being the best Saturday he could remember in a long time.

More and more often, Felix called him for help with homework, or just to make sure he had a concept down. Inevitably, the conversation would shift to the events of the day, and after a couple weeks, they dropped the pretense of schoolwork entirely and started calling each other just to chat. Their rift didn’t come up again, but they talked about everything else—they had three years’ worth of catching up to do, after all. Sylvain learned all about Felix’s new friends: Bernadetta, the purple-haired girl from the bar, was a writer (even though she never let Felix read her writing), and though she was painfully shy, she had mastered a skill that had always eluded Sylvain: she could calm Felix down. 

He had a drinking buddy, Leonie, who had earned his respect after wiping the floor with him at karate club. Of course Felix kept up with karate; unlike Sylvain, he had actual hobbies and interests. 

Sometimes Felix mentioned Linhardt, a mysterious entity who slept through all his classes yet still managed to get all As. “Why are the smart ones always so obnoxious?” Felix would scoff. But it stung that Linhardt was Felix’s first choice for tutoring, even if it made sense. Linhardt was there (when he was awake) and Sylvain was in a different province. 

And then there was Caspar, who seemed to fall somewhere between friend and rival. Sylvain didn’t love hearing about him, but he listened anyway. The guy was a ball of energy, and more than once, his loud voice had interrupted a phone call to demand Felix play some video game or help him with gen chem homework. Sometimes Felix would agree, and he would sit and fester long after they hung up, until he could convince himself he wasn’t jealous.

Every single one of them had been there for Felix while Sylvain had been wallowing in self-pity. Felix deserved good friends. He deserved a lover too, if he wanted one. Someone who brought out the best in him. He had prospects, and that made Sylvain happy. 

So happy he had to jerk off every night after they hung up. Sometimes again in the morning. 

Because sometimes, Sylvain could almost convince himself they were flirting. It was probably all in his head, but if Sylvain talked about going swimming, Felix asked what his swimsuit looked like. If Sylvain mentioned going to the gym, Felix would say, “As if you aren’t already giant enough,” with this breathy little gasp that said he wasn’t opposed to the idea. 

It was dangerous, but goddess, it was tempting. 

_ “You love it,” Sylvain would say.  _

_ Felix would click his tongue and reply, “How can I when I’ve never seen a picture?”  _

_ Of course, Sylvain would send him one, shirtless, flexing, maybe a couple coy fingertips tucked into his sweats. _

_ “Not bad.” Felix wouldn’t bother masking the desire in his voice.  _

_ And because Felix loved a challenge, Sylvain would goad him with, “I showed you mine, now show me yours.” _

_ In those agonizing seconds while the picture loaded, Sylvain would tease himself a little, through his pants. When the selfie finally graced his screen, he’d let out a moan, because he had nothing to hide from Felix. “You’re incredible, Fe.” _

_ “Call me that again,” Felix would whisper.  _

_ “Fe.” Over the pants wouldn’t cut it anymore. “Touch yourself.” _

_ “I am,” Felix would say. “You better be, too. I’m not doing this alone.” _

_ Oh, Sylvain was touching himself, all right. “Never,” he gasped. “You’re never alone, Fe, I’m always thinking about you.” _

_ “I wish you were here with me.” Felix was breathing harder now. “I miss you so much.” _

_ Every whimper pushed Sylvain’s hand faster. “I miss you, too, Fe. Every day. I want to see you.”  _

_ “I’m—ah, Sylvain!” _

Buzzing jolted Sylvain out of his fantasy. His phone was ringing—Felix. Fuck, just his contact photo was enough to drive Sylvain over the edge, and hot come left faultlines on his stomach in the aftershock of Felix’s name on his lips.

He was in too deep. Somehow, his voicemail didn’t kick in and Felix didn’t hang up. Too breathless, Sylvain answered. 

“Are you okay?” Felix asked. “You sound like you just ran a marathon.” 

“I’m fine,” Sylvain said. He took a deep breath. “What’s up, Fe?”

Sylvain wasn’t the only one hurting for air. With a gasp ripped right out of Sylvain’s fantasy, Felix said, “I just wanted to talk to you.” His frustrated grunt was firmly rooted in reality. “That must sound pathetic.”

“No, it doesn’t.” A few more steady breaths did nothing to slow Sylvain’s pounding heart. “I was just thinking about you.”

Something—a lick of lips, a hard swallow; Sylvain’s imagination ran wild—disrupted the line. “You were?” 

More potent than liquor, that orgasm addled Sylvain’s mind, made him say foolish things. Things like, “I want to see you.”

“I want to see you, too.” Felix didn’t sound happy, but he didn’t sound irritated, either. Just somber. “But I have classes and you have work, and—”

“Can I come visit you?” 

It was such a bad idea. Sylvain didn’t need to torture himself and Felix didn’t need Sylvain in his life again. Not like that. Not as anything but a friend from afar. Still, ever the fool, Sylvain held his breath. 

“Yes.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _oh, baby I think we both know  
>  this is the love that we won't get right  
> still if you said that you wanted  
> I know I'll always have one more try_
> 
> chapter title and lyrics from _winterbreak_ by muna
> 
> \---
> 
> Things are looking up! I promised they would, didn't I? Sorry for the wait. I had this chapter about half done, then I rediscovered that MUNA song and the rest just sort of flowed out. Also, I added a chapter.  
> Next time, the reunion. The, er, rating may go up. 
> 
> Thanks so much to phichithamsters for beta reading! She just posted [a lovely Sylvix fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739175/), so please check it out if you haven't already! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, I really hope everyone is enjoying this story.


	5. one more shot at forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain visits Felix with one goal in mind: forgiveness. But it's hard to bring down the mood when the two of them are getting along so well.

Another week dragged by before Sylvain could get a weekend off. Only nightly calls and daily texts with Felix got him through, but talking on the phone wasn’t the same as seeing him, and by Friday, Sylvain’s legs shook from nerves every time he sat down. 

The night before he was supposed to leave, he’d only been able to sleep in short bursts—just long enough to dream, and those dreams ranged from mundane to high tragedy. 

First, his car didn’t start. Then, he got lost on Felix’s campus, and when he tried to ask the faceless students around him for help, the words turned to paste in his mouth. He’d woken up, heart racing, and only fell back asleep after a drink of water. The next thing he knew, Felix was throwing his ankles over Sylvain’s shoulders and Sylvain was pushing in. Sentimental nothings passed between them as they made love, slow and sweet, and Sylvain woke again, only an hour later, with a problem water wouldn’t fix. He took care of it quickly, picturing the smile on Felix’s face the whole time. But then, like a curse, he fell asleep again and walked in on Felix kissing Caspar. Only once he got up and showered did Sylvain realize he had never actually seen Caspar, but in his dreams, the guy was tall and buff—Felix’s type, or so Sylvain liked to think. 

If Felix and Caspar had a thing, that was great. Felix deserved to be happy, and Sylvain wasn’t going to Enbarr to sleep with him; he was going to get his friend back.

Still Sylvain liked his other dream—the one where Felix was calling  _ his _ name—better. 

Tossing and turning all night left him a shaking, over-caffeinated mess at work. Time slowed to a crawl, maybe from the adrenaline, and by the time his shift ended, his heart threatened to pound right out of his chest. 

Somehow, he managed to keep his hands steady enough to call Felix.

“Are you here?” Felix’s voice hit Sylvain like a tranquilizer, and for the first time since waking up, he smiled. 

“I haven’t left yet, Fe,” he said. “But I’m excited to see you, too.”

“Well, hurry up.” Felix’s impatience couldn’t mask the affection that bled through when he added, “But don’t speed.” 

“That’s hilarious coming from you and your lead foot.” It was tempting, Sylvain thought as he got into his car, to floor it and see how much time he could shave off the five hour trip. 

“Well, you drive like my grandma,” Felix shot back. The truth was, Sylvain did speed, just not when Felix was in the car. Never with Felix. “Just don’t do anything stupid. I want to see you here, not in the ER.” 

_ There. _ In five hours, Sylvain would be in Felix’s apartment. When he thought about it that way, the trip seemed a lot shorter. He took a deep breath and started the car. “I’ll be careful.”

“And pull over and sleep if you need to. Don’t push yourself on my account.”

Sylvain couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked out for him like that, but he knew it was Felix. It had always been Felix. And that realization gripped his heart and tore it in two. All Sylvain wanted to do on this trip was make things right, but until he took his very last breath, he would be in love with Felix Fraldarius.

“I’ll get to you in one piece.” His body, if not his heart. “I promise.”

“Good.” Silence fell over the line, but Felix didn’t hang up. 

Sylvain pulled out of the hospital parking lot, listening to Felix breathe. If he was going to keep his promise, he needed to hang up and drive. “I’ll see you soon, Fe.”

It felt so good to say those words. Felix’s little gasp made a beeline for his aching heart. 

“See you soon, Sylvain.” Hearing it back was even better, and Sylvain felt wide awake and electric. All the things he wanted to say swirled through his mind, every apology he needed to make, but every time he found the right words, he started drifting over the shoulder. He turned on a podcast to keep his mind occupied and his eyes focused on the road. For Felix. 

He cut about fifteen minutes from his initial ETA, and that was with exercising self-control. It wouldn’t surprise him one bit if Felix called him out on it. 

Sylvain stared at Felix’s apartment complex through his windshield, phone in hand. There wasn’t much to say about it—drab brick, murky brown even in the glow of the moonlight. One street lamp buzzed in the corner, so loud Sylvain could hear it from inside his car. He pushed Send.

_ I’m here. _

He reached into the backseat for his bag, heart jumping when his phone buzzed with Felix’s reply.

_ come on up _

The sound of Sylvain shutting his door echoed through the quiet parking lot, full of cars but no people. Maybe everyone was already out, living their Friday night to the fullest, or maybe this apartment attracted serious students like Felix. 

Inside the complex was empty, too, except for one strange-looking person at the mailboxes at the other end of the hall. It wasn’t the long green hair nor the fuzzy slippers that stuck out to Sylvain; it was the way this stranger was staring at him, like they were both in a horror movie.

Sylvain went for the friendly angle. “Hey, how’s it going?”

The stranger stared at him a little longer, then let out a thoughtful hum. “I didn’t think you were real.”

“I’m sorry?” Was he dealing with some sort of alien abductee? 

“You can’t blame me,” the stranger said good-naturedly. “The way Felix”—Sylvain’s heart flipped—“talked about you, you sounded entirely made up.” 

“Felix talks about me?”  _ To you?  _ Sylvain kept that last part to himself. This had to be one of Felix’s friends, and if Sylvain had to guess, he’d say it was Linhardt. 

Probably-Linhardt rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Yes. His strapping, six-foot-something genius of a friend, located rather conveniently back in Faerghus. I’m sorry I doubted him.”

He made it sound like Felix used Sylvain as a fake boyfriend to get out of things he didn’t want to do. Like dates. “What else did Felix say about me?” 

Linhardt yawned. “That you are insufferable.”

“Insufferable?” That did sound like Felix, but it wounded Sylvain just the same. Before he could feel too sorry for himself, a door flung open down the hall and Felix poked his head out.

Sylvain forgot all about Linhardt once he got that first taste of the man he so desperately craved. 

They hadn’t really seen each other since Glenn’s funeral (that night at the bar didn’t count because Sylvain was too drunk to remember much). Of course Felix looked better now, but Sylvain was unprepared for just how much better. Gone were the sallow skin and air of malaise, though the bags under his eyes remained, charming now that he looked as healthy and happy as Sylvain could remember. Judging by the size of his bun, he’d grown his hair out, and the urge to loosen the knot and watch it cascade down his back pulsed through Sylvain’s body. 

Felix was looking at him and him alone, but his heart still fell when Felix said, “Shut up, Linhardt.”

“Goodnight, then,” said Linhardt, meandering to a room several doors away from Felix’s. “Enjoy yourselves.” 

Sylvain dismissed the strange encounter (easily done now that his brain was screeching an endless refrain of _Felix Felix Felix_ ) but his feet were rooted in the hallway. 

“You should come inside.” Sylvain’s heart dipped again when Felix ducked into his apartment, but he put one foot in front of the other until he reached the doorway and Felix. 

All Sylvain could say was, “I made it.”

“About time.”

And if Felix were anyone else, that would have been it: the moment Sylvain threw his bag to the floor, cast off his defenses, and swept his beloved into his arms for a life-altering kiss.

But it was Felix, and coming here without apologizing first was already overstepping. 

“You must be hungry,” said Felix. “You made it here so fast, there’s no way you could have stopped.”

“Roads were empty. But I could eat.”

“I’ll heat up a pizza.” Felix opened his freezer and called over his shoulder, “Bathroom’s over there.”

Sylvain definitely had to pee, too. He put his backpack on the floor and took Felix up on his offer. 

For a college kid, Felix kept his bathroom spotless. Had Felix cleaned up just for him? He really didn’t need to; Sylvain would sleep in a dumpster down the street if it meant seeing Felix. 

Even just taking a piss was nostalgic, not because of the act itself, but because of the sights. Felix still used the same toothpaste, the same shampoo, the same soap… Deciding it would be creepy to sniff anything, Sylvain finished his business and washed his hands. Felix was standing in the kitchen, arms folded across his chest, frowning at his little toaster oven. This, Sylvain reminded himself, was not a dream. 

“I didn’t eat, either,” Felix said, low, almost under his breath. “Wanted to wait for you.”

That sent Sylvain’s heart off the rails, and he took a leap of faith. He strode forward and wrapped his arms around Felix before he could think better of it. 

At first, Felix stiffened, but with a deep breath, his shoulders relaxed, and slowly he uncrossed his arms and coiled them around Sylvain’s waist. 

_ Kill me now,  _ Sylvain thought,  _ because I’ll never be this happy again. _

And then it was over, arms back at their sides and a good two feet between them, and Sylvain decided death could wait until after this weekend. 

Felix cleared his throat and turned back to the toaster, and Sylvain took the opportunity to look around Felix’s apartment. 

He always imagined something spacious when they talked on the phone: maybe a two bedroom unit with a good-sized living room and an dine-in kitchen. But reality—an efficiency unit—was a far cry from the Fraldarius mansion. The bedroom was the living room, except for the corner that was the kitchen. Felix’s table only sat one, but it wasn’t his desk, because his laptop was lying on his neatly made bed.

Bed. Singular. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Felix’s voice startled him. “It’s tiny, but I bet I have more savings than you.”

That wasn’t what Sylvain was thinking at all. His brain was still stuck on _one bed_. But he managed to say, “You always saved your birthday money.”

“And you always wasted yours on candy.” Felix waved an arm in his direction. “Just put your stuff wherever.” 

“Sure.” Sylvain pushed his backpack to the wall but there wasn’t a spot in the place where it would be out of the way. “I didn’t bring a sleeping bag.” 

Not that there would have been room on the floor for his strapping, six-foot-something body. 

Felix turned back to him, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you didn’t have a couch?!”

“Sylvain.” Felix rubbed his temples like he had a headache, but he took a deep breath before going on. “Do what you want, but you’re welcome to sleep in my bed. With me.” 

“Oh.”  _ Oh.  _ Well, that changed things. Maybe it was just a friendly gesture, like the sleepovers they had when they were kids. They would always try to stay up later than Glenn, but every time, they woke up with mustaches (and later, dicks) drawn on their faces. 

Maybe this was a different sort of gesture, with actual dicks in better places, but Sylvain didn’t let his mind wander any further down that path. Friendly or not, it was one checkmark in the “not dating Caspar or Linhardt” column. 

“How was the drive?” Felix asked. 

Sylvain welcomed the subject change. “Uneventful.” 

“Good. Don’t be surprised if you get a ticket in the mail. They use those aerial cameras.” 

That hug was worth a thousand speeding tickets.

Felix gestured to the single chair in the room. “Sit, if you want.”

“Been sitting for five hours,” Sylvain reminded him. Felix shrugged and sat down himself. 

“So, you met Lin.”

The nickname prickled but Sylvain just nodded. “He seems interesting. I especially liked how he knew me as your insufferable imaginary friend.” Sylvain left out all the nice parts because he still didn’t know what to make of them.

“Is that what he said?” Suddenly, Felix wouldn’t look Sylvain in the eye. “He talks out his ass.”

“I don’t mind. Makes me sound mysterious.”

Felix snorted. “There’s nothing mysterious about you.”

“Maybe not to you. You know me better than anyone.” 

“Really?” Felix looked up at him, eyes wide in genuine surprise. “Still?”

Now that Sylvain thought about it, it was pathetic. Three years had passed since they stopped being friends, and Sylvain still hadn’t let anyone else get close to him. 

It was a complete reversal from high school. Now Felix was the one with tons of friends Sylvain didn’t know. Friends who shared his interests and his hobbies and his life, totally disconnected from Faerghus. Could Sylvain really hope for more than memories? 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Felix said, making a face. “I have to go to campus tomorrow to turn something in. You can wait here.”

“Why?” Sylvain perked himself back up. “Can I come with you?”

“Do you really want to?”

“I would love to see your campus. You can show me around if you want, but even if you just turn it in and come right back, I want to go with you.”

The toaster oven dinged and Felix jumped up. “Fine, if you insist. It’s gonna be boring, though.”

“With you? Not possible.” 

Felix let out a little grunt and slapped the pizza down on a plate. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge to drink.” 

His refrigerator was pretty well-stocked for a college student, too. A six pack of beer—too dangerous—took up most the top shelf, sandwiched between a two-liter bottle of Felix’s favorite soda and…

“Milk!” Sylvain grabbed the jug. “Did you buy this just for me?”

“You better drink it.” Felix set out a cup on the tiny counter. “Otherwise it’s just going to go to waste.”

Heart full, Sylvain poured himself a glass. He was completely unashamed of his love for the stuff, but Felix was lactose intolerant. That meant he really had gone out of his way for Sylvain, not just cleaning but shopping, too. Maybe he was just as eager for this weekend as Sylvain.

Felix sliced the pizza, loaded three steaming hot pieces on a plate, and passed it to Sylvain. 

“Sit,” he said, pointing at his little table. 

Sylvain did. “Thanks. I’ll buy you breakfast tomorrow.”

“You’re my guest. I’ve got it.”

Sylvain shook his head. “But you’re putting me up for free, and I have a job. Let me treat you.”

Felix served himself some pizza and leaned against the counter to eat. “Fine,” he said through a mouthful. 

And for a few minutes, it felt just like old times. Eating together in comfortable silence, just enjoying being close to each other again. 

“So what else did you want to do?” Felix asked between pieces. “This weekend, I mean.”

“I’m up for anything as long it’s with you. I’d love to meet your friends, hang out at your favorite places, eat at your favorite restaurants… Whatever you would do on a normal weekend.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “You must think my life is a lot more exciting than it really is.”

“Or we can stay in and sleep.” Sylvain’s eyes drifted toward the bed and Felix chose that moment to cram half a piece of pizza into his mouth. Sylvain cleared his throat and said, “Or I can help you with your homework. I’ll even watch you do it.”

“You miss school that much?” 

“You know that’s not what I miss,” said Sylvain too quickly, and an awkward,  _ oh-shit-I-said-too-much  _ silence fell over the room. Or maybe Felix was just thinking. Sylvain tried to correct himself anyway. ”All I mean is I’m just happy to be here with you. You don’t have to go out of your way to entertain me.” 

“Fine,” Felix said after a minute. “You are pretty easily amused.”

They shared a smile that could have counted as Sylvain’s entertainment for the entire weekend. The conversation shifted—to work, to Felix’s day, to the things they hadn’t caught up on yet because of the five hour drive. Once the pizza was polished off, Sylvain insisted on doing the dishes, but when he got to the cups and he caught himself yawning. 

Felix caught him, too.

“Let’s go to bed. You had a long day.”

“When do you usually go to bed?” Sylvain wondered, putting the last dish on the strainer. 

“Depends how much homework I have. Usually by midnight.”

Right. Because Felix liked to get up early. Sylvain remembered drowning his own insecurities in alcohol and sex back in college, staying up into the wee hours of the night and then finishing his homework the next morning in a hungover frenzy. 

Work had turned him into an early riser, and trudging through a 12 hour shift with a hangover was a lot harder than just going to class, so he drank less, too. He was about to tell Felix as much when he looked up to find Felix shirtless.

Sylvain couldn’t form words. He should have turned around or closed his eyes, but all he could do was watch as Felix stripped his jeans off, too. 

He hadn’t seen Felix this close to naked since Felix was 18 years old. Sylvain had been in awe of his body then, but the years had matured him and now Sylvain couldn’t look away. Felix didn’t seem to mind an audience; he didn’t blush or shy away, like he knew exactly how good he looked. His muscles had filled in to define his chest, his ribs, and his narrow waist. He’d sculpted his legs into masterpieces, with curves and valleys Sylvain could lose himself in.

Felix turned to face his dresser and Sylvain ached to run his fingers down the ridges of his back. Pure lust pulsed through Sylvain when Felix bent down to grab his pajamas—those navy boxer briefs did so many favors for his tight, tiny ass. Did Felix know what he was doing? How was Sylvain supposed to sleep next to a god?

Felix covered his body all too soon, with black cotton sleep pants and a gray shirt. Turning back to Sylvain, he said, “Hope you brought your own stuff, because…”

“I’d rip right through yours.” Sylvain didn’t mean for it to come out so sexual, but Felix held his heated gaze, unblinking. With a grunt, Sylvain shook off the haze and started over. “Yeah, I brought stuff.”

Felix looked at him, almost expectant, and Sylvain didn’t want to disappoint. He whipped his T-shirt off, and he felt Felix’s gaze before he saw it. Felix wasn’t the only one who’d matured. Sylvain had grown into his long limbs, and he’d been working on some muscles of his own. Nothing like Felix’s, but as he slipped his pants off, he could have sworn he heard Felix gasp. 

But maybe that was just because Sylvain was (not by coincidence) wearing the tiniest underwear he owned. He balled up his clothes and put them next to his backpack, then pulled out the sleep shorts he had brought. He didn’t have a spare shirt because he normally slept without one. How was he supposed to know Felix didn’t have a couch? For a second, he thought about putting his T-shirt back on, but Felix cleared his throat and Sylvain looked back.

There was that blush Sylvain loved so much. “You can use the bathroom first. Towels in the closet. Use whatever you need.” 

Sylvain nodded and fished his toiletry bag out of his backpack. The moment he was alone in the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his hot face, but it wasn’t enough to kill the burn on his cheeks. Felix was impossibly sexy. There was no way Sylvain would make it through the night. But he could still feel Felix’s eyes on his body, and as he brushed his teeth he wondered if it would be a long night for Felix, too.

_ Why hold back?  _ came a devilish little thought. If he wanted Felix and Felix wanted him, why shouldn’t they let it happen?

But they still hadn’t talked about the other times they had just  _ let it happen.  _ Checking each other out wasn’t enough. There were a million reasons not to dive in: Sylvain hadn’t apologized, they weren’t even friends, and above all else, Sylvain loved Felix too much to act first and think later. 

Besides, just because Felix thought Sylvain looked good in his underwear didn’t mean he wanted to fuck. 

But the sight of Felix stretched out on the bed still hit him hard when he came out of the bathroom. 

“Your turn,” Sylvain said, hating the crack in his voice. 

Felix got up without a word and Sylvain settled on the side of the bed Felix hadn’t been lying on. The scent of the clean covers knocked the wind out of him, triggering some subconscious memory tied up in Felix, vague but instantly nostalgic. Sylvain buried his face in the pillow and inhaled like he was trying to get high. It was probably just the detergent, maybe the same brand Felix’s family had used growing up, but he had a feeling huffing Rodrigue wouldn’t give him the same buzz. This scent was all Felix, and Sylvain wanted to drown in it forever. 

“What are you doing?” 

Sylvain opened his eyes. Felix stood above him, one eyebrow raised, and Sylvain extracted his nose from the pillow. 

“Smells nice,” he said, hoping Felix wouldn’t notice how red his face was. 

Felix looked like he wanted to say something, but he just shook his head, switched off the light, and walked around to the other side of the bed. 

Pulling back the sheets, he climbed in and settled on his side. Facing Sylvain. Sylvain rolled away from him toward the safety of the wall. He couldn’t bring himself to get under the blankets. 

Minutes passed, quiet, black, and still, but Sylvain didn’t fall asleep, and he didn’t hear any telltale regular breathing from Felix, either. A shiver traveled up Sylvain’s spine and his T-shirt called to him from the corner. Maybe Felix had an extra blanket somewhere. He could ask, or he could just wait for Felix to fall asleep and change. Maybe sleep on the floor. 

“Sylvain,” Felix whispered, gruff enough to startle him. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re shaking the bed. Get under the covers.”

“Sorry.” Sylvain couldn’t refuse him, and he shimmied under the blankets lest he keep Felix awake any longer. The shivering stopped but he wasn’t prepared for the all-encompassing warmth of being this close to Felix. It didn’t scare him like he thought it would. 

“Much better,” he said, though the words didn’t even begin to describe the feeling. Felix took a deep breath, and when he let it out, it ruffled Sylvain’s hair.

“Goodnight, Sylvain. I’m…” Felix trailed off and started again. “I’m really glad you came.”

Covers or not, hearing that was enough to keep Sylvain warm forever. 

“Me too. Goodnight, Fe.”

He fell asleep on his side but woke up on his back, shoulder to shoulder with Felix, content all the way through his bones. Not once had he woken up in a cold sweat or had a bad dream. It was probably a coincidence, but for a moment, Sylvain let himself believe he could have this every day and that it would always feel this perfect. 

It wouldn’t, even if they took that leap, but the fact that it could feel like this at all meant something. 

“Good morning,” said Felix. The last vestiges of sleep clung to his throat, deepening his voice. 

Their faces were so close they could have shared a pillow, and neither of them was the least bit bothered by it. When Sylvain echoed his greeting, Felix lowered his chin and smiled even brighter than he had the night before up. Butterflies flew from Sylvain’s stomach to his toes and back, and Sunday already seemed too soon. One more peaceful morning together (provided he didn’t fuck it up) would never be enough. 

And deep down, he knew that being just friends with Felix would never be enough, either. But he didn’t want to think about that right now.

Felix cleared his throat. “Did you sleep okay?” 

The rasp was gone, but how could Sylvain miss it? Sylvain loved all of him, the rough parts, too, but it had been too long since he’d seen Felix so sweet and open. 

Unwilling to break the moment, Sylvain stuck to the immediate truth. “I slept beautifully.” 

“Weirdo.” Felix nudged him, his smile morphing into a smirk that hit Sylvain deeper and triggered a reaction he couldn’t quite control. Like he was back in high school. Felix didn’t seem to notice, continuing with, “You always sleep like a log.”

“Getting old is hell, Fe,” Sylvain told him, because it was easier than admitting he hadn’t slept well since Felix left for Enbarr.

“Oh, shut up, you’re not old.” Felix rolled his eyes and got out of bed, and Sylvain averted his gaze. He didn’t want to know if Felix was facing the same dilemma he was fighting beneath the covers, so he focused instead on Felix’s hair and how it skimmed his shoulders in wispy layers that curled at the ends. 

“I like your hair,” Sylvain said, shocked at how easily the words came.

Felix huffed and grabbed an elastic from his bedside table. Seizing the band in his mouth, he used both hands to sweep his hair into its usual knot and mumbled through his teeth, “I was going to get it cut.”

“But now you won’t because I told you it looked nice?”

Felix shot him a confusing look—the perfect mix of threatening and alluring—and it certainly didn’t help with Sylvain’s erection. 

“You want some coffee?” Felix’s glare softened (and that didn’t help, either) and Sylvain nodded. Sitting up, he piled the covers in his lap, but he needn’t have bothered—Felix’s eyes were glued to his chest once more. 

A juvenile spark of pride rolled through Sylvain. He pushed it down. “Yes, please.”

Felix got started on coffee and once Sylvain had himself under control, he got up to use the bathroom and fix his hair. As he passed his backpack, he thought about grabbing a shirt, but Felix’s gaze felt too good to give up just yet. 

Coffee mug in hand, Felix turned around and rewarded Sylvain with a full-blown, wide-eyed, open-mouthed ogle. The discipline it took not to flex in that moment would have made Felix so proud, Sylvain almost asked for a pat on the back. 

“Here,” Felix muttered, coming back to himself and passing Sylvain the mug. Cat ears and whiskers adorned the words  _ SHOW ME DEM KITTIES _ and Sylvain snorted so hard he almost spilled the coffee. 

“This is amazing.”

“It’s so stupid.” Felix shook his head, but his lips quirked up as he added, “I knew you’d appreciate it.” 

But as Sylvain opened the fridge to add a splash of milk to his coffee, he wondered who had given Felix the mug; there was no way he’d bought it himself. Probably not Linhardt. Bernadetta and Leonie were wildcards, but if Sylvain had to guess, he’d pick Caspar. 

He wondered if Caspar looked as good as he did without a shirt and immediately felt guilty. 

Felix took a sip of his own (black) coffee, cheeks pink behind a second cat mug. If looks could kill, the cat on Felix’s mug would be lethal, and this one read  _ NOT A MORNING PURRSON. _

“My friends are the worst,” said Felix, doing his best to fend off another smile. 

Seeing him so happy melted the last of Sylvain’s jealousy and he beamed at Felix through the steam. “They sound terrible. I can’t wait to meet them.”

Coffee finished, they took turns getting ready. Sylvain followed Felix’s lead, taking his clothes with him to the bathroom instead of parading around in a towel, and then they set off for breakfast at a nearby pancake house.

Conversation flowed like the coffee from the pot they shared, with strawberry pancakes for Sylvain and sausage, eggs, and untouched toast for Felix. Only Felix could go to a pancake house and not get pancakes. But he didn’t complain when Sylvain paid for both of their meals, and they fell into step on the trek to campus, sun higher and spirits even brighter. 

Felix gave him a tour, pointing out where he had his classes and any other spots worth mentioning, like the ginkgo tree that dropped stinky fruit in the fall and the clock tower where the street preachers screamed at sinful students. He could have pointed out cracks in the pavement and Sylvain still would have hung on his every word. 

But in the back of his mind, the things they weren’t saying—the main reason for his visit—started to weigh on Sylvain. They were having such a good day, and once he broached the topic, there was no going back. Was it so bad to enjoy the moment a little longer? Sylvain had to apologize—he was going to do it—but he wanted to wait for the right time.

They were wandering the student union when Felix asked, “Ready to go back?” 

And Sylvain bit his lip, because this was it—when they got home, it would be time. But before he could nod, Felix’s phone vibrated. Sylvain pretended to look at the bookstore display while Felix answered his text, but Sylvain was watching Felix’s reflection in the window the whole time. 

Frowning at his phone, Felix said, “Or not. My friends want to know if you want to play board games.”

“I love games,” said Sylvain. Disappointment and relief collided in his stomach, spiked with jealousy because he only got Felix for one weekend and he didn’t want to share. Maybe he was projecting, but he thought he saw the same swirl of emotions in Felix’s eyes. “Do you want to?”

Felix shrugged. “You said you wanted to meet my friends.”

Sylvain really did, so the walk continued, quieter, to a coffee shop called Wyvern's Nest. It looked like a warehouse, except it was packed with tables and comfy chairs for playing any of the dozens of board games they offered their customers. Sylvain wished he had thought of the idea—maybe he could get a franchise going back in Faerghus. 

“FELIX!” cried a voice the moment they set foot in the shop. Sylvain tracked the voice to someone with bright blue hair, then recognized Linhardt next to them. 

“That’s Caspar,” Felix sighed, offering his friend a grudging wave. “Let’s get some coffee. I’m gonna need it.” 

Sylvain’s stomach flipped; Caspar was awfully excited to see Felix. At least he was short (though he was pretty ripped). Sylvain got ready to paste a smile on his face, but his heart shot straight into his throat when Felix grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the counter. 

It didn’t mean anything—just Felix being impatient—but Sylvain cherished the moment anyway. 

Felix ordered himself a black coffee. “And I’ve got his,” he added, dropping Sylvain’s hand to point at him. 

“Aww, thanks, Fe,” Sylvain said, even as his brain sang  _ not a date, not a date, not a date _ in three-part harmony. He chose a latte and they made their way to Felix’s friends. 

Sylvain recognized Bernadetta (even half obscured behind a stained couch cushion) and Linhardt, though neither of them acknowledged him. Caspar more than made up for it, jumping out of his seat. 

“I told Lin you were real!” he cried, extending Sylvain the firmest handshake he had ever experienced before crashing onto the couch next to Linhardt.

“Nice to meet you,” said Sylvain. “All of you.”

That meant the redhead on Linhardt’s other side had to be Leonie, and she nodded at Sylvain.

“Everyone know each other?” Felix didn’t wait for an answer. “Good. What game are you going to make me sit through today?”

Sylvain was about to encourage him to be a good sport but Caspar jumped up again.

“Come on, Felix, don’t be like that!” He took the words right out of Sylvain’s mouth. “You had fun last time!” 

“And you won,” Linhardt added. “You always win.” 

Felix crossed his arms. “What’s the point of playing if you’re not trying to win?”

“Exactly!” Leonie cracked her knuckles and opened the game box. “All right, the name of the game is Heroes’ Relic. Does everyone know how to play?”

No one looked at Sylvain, but luckily, he knew the rules. 

Felix attacked the game head on, quickly clashing with Leonie in a friendly race to the top. Caspar and Linhardt didn’t stand a chance, but Felix kept Caspar invested in the game and had comebacks for all of Linhardt’s comments. Sylvain wasn’t sure what had happened to Bernadetta, but Felix checked in on her (she had elected to read a book behind the couch instead of playing).

Seeing Felix so completely at ease put the morning in perspective. Sylvain knew it had been a fantasy, but he’d almost convinced himself he and Felix could be friends again, even deluded himself into thinking they could be more. But it was just the same sexual tension they’d been fighting for years. Now that he knew the truth, there was no comparison; Felix was truly himself with his real friends—laughing, cracking jokes Sylvain didn’t get, and letting himself go, like back when he was a kid. Felix was thriving without him, and Sylvain had never felt more redundant in his life. 

He couldn’t even be jealous, not when Felix was this happy, but it hurt to face the reality of just how poorly he fit into Felix’s world. He and Felix were on their best behavior this weekend but old habits died hard, and at their best, they’d never been this good. 

It was better this way. Sylvain would apologize for everything tonight, then he’d fade into Felix’s past, back to Faerghus where he belonged. 

In time, this weekend would be the closure Sylvain needed to finally move on. He wanted what Felix had: friends who really knew him, no pretense, no pretending to be happy. Maybe someday, he’d find someone to share his life with, but he’d never get anywhere if he kept clinging to Felix. 

It was going to hurt both of them—Sylvain wasn’t oblivious. There’d been signs, even before this weekend, that Felix had lingering feelings for him, too. All the more reason to let him go, once and for all.

“Hey.” Felix touched his arm, startling him out of his trance. “It’s your turn.” 

“Oh, sorry.” Sylvain forced a smile and picked a card at random, but Felix wasn’t fooled. Like an interrogation, he glared daggers at Sylvain until Sylvain couldn’t take the heat a moment longer and announced, “I’m gonna get some more coffee.”

He stood up and headed for the counter, wishing he could make a break for the door. Some fresh air would do him good, but coffee would have to do. He ordered another latte and stared at a chart of flavor profiles without absorbing anything. 

“Sylvain.” Felix tugged on the back of his shirt and Sylvain slapped his smile back on before turning to face him. 

“You’re gonna miss your turn,” said Sylvain. “What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you. I only agreed to play this stupid game because I thought you wanted to, but you’re not even trying.”

It would have been easier if Felix hadn’t noticed. The barista called Sylvain’s name and he stalled by taking a long drink from his cup. “I guess the drive is catching up to me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Come on, let’s get back,” said Sylvain, gesturing at their table. 

Felix blocked the way with his body. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. You’re acting weird.”

Lying was pointless, but Sylvain tried it anyway. “Don’t sweat it. You’re having a good time and that’s all that matters.”

“No, I’m not. I’m too busy worrying about you.”

That was exactly what Sylvain was afraid of. “Why? I was having fun watching you and your friends.”

“You’re so infuriating, I don’t know why I—” Felix cut himself off with a grunt and rubbed his temples. “I don’t want to get into this here.”

“Neither do I.” At least they were on the same page. “So let’s go finish the game and we can talk when we get back to your apartment.”

“Fine.”

And for the rest of the game, Sylvain had to contend with the guilt of ruining Felix’s mood. They faked it well enough, and Felix’s friends didn’t seem bothered, but Sylvain felt the tension crackling in the wider space between them on the couch. 

Felix declined an invitation to get dinner before Sylvain could answer and dragged him once more by the hand and out the door.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Felix growled as he stomped down the street with Sylvain still in tow.

This was it; Felix was about to call the whole thing off. It would have been easier to let him, but Sylvain owed Felix an apology first. Lots of them. He came to a stop, shoulder cracking as Felix yanked on his arm.

“Hold that thought. I need to say something,” said Sylvain. “I’m—”

“No,” Felix snarled. He was squeezing Sylvain’s hand tight enough to hurt, shoulders rising and falling in rickety breaths. “Me first, because I can tell you’re going to say something stupid.”

When Felix spun around, his eyes were blazing bright. Sylvain knew that look, would carry it with him to the grave, because it was the exact same look Felix had given him before their last kiss. 

Sylvain braced himself.

But Felix didn’t charge him, didn’t grab his shirt or crash their lips together, just looked him dead in the eye and said the one thing Sylvain couldn’t deny. 

“I love you.” 

Leave it to Felix to outmaneuver him yet again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I know you know that I made those mistakes maybe once or twice  
>  by once or twice I mean maybe a couple a hundred times  
> so let me, oh let me redeem, oh redeem, oh myself tonight  
> 'cause I just need one more shot at second chances_
> 
> chapter title and lyrics from _sorry_ by justin bieber
> 
> \---
> 
> Bed sharing? In my fic? It's more likely than you think. I hope you enjoyed the longing. And I like to think Sylvain's distaste for jealousy means he hates when other people get jealous. Felix is special. :)
> 
> One more chapter left (again), and unless you lovely readers are against it, I'm going to bump the rating up to give these two the indulgent reconciliation they deserve (and the happy ending I promised). Thanks for sticking with this fic, and I promise, the next chapter really is the last. 
> 
> Thanks so much to [Phichithamsters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters/) for the beta read and encouragement!!


	6. come home to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain, Felix, and forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note the rating change

_ I love you. _

Sylvain heard it in his head a thousand times after Felix said it, echoing and distorted like a bad remix. Felix didn’t just have feelings for him or want his body—Felix  _ loved _ him. Sylvain needed to sit down and collect his thoughts before he could give Felix the response he deserved, but they were still in the middle of the street. 

“Felix…”

“Don’t,” Felix said, ripping his hand away from Sylvain’s. “I knew you were going to be stupid about this, so just listen before you stick your head any further up your ass.”

Sylvain knew better than to argue.

“I love you,” Felix repeated, slower, like he was still testing the words on his tongue. “I’ve loved you since high school, and I don’t think I ever stopped. I tried to hate you, I tried to pretend I didn’t care, but I can’t do it anymore. The truth is, I’ve been happier talking to you these past few months than I’ve been in years, and I don’t want it to end. So that’s it. I love you.”

It wasn’t any easier to hear the third time, but it seemed like Felix had finally said what he wanted to say.

Now, Sylvain just had to figure out what to say to him.

“I know.” Sylvain dragged a hand through his hair. “I’ve had a feeling for a while, but…”

“But.” Felix shook his head and pushed out a harsh breath. “How did I know there was going to be a _but?_ ”

“But it’s not going to work, Felix!” The words came out loud, unchecked. “I’m a hopeless mess and you know it.”

“Are you?” Felix sounded bewildered. “You’re not that drunk loser I saw in the bar that night. You have a good job, and I’m pretty sure I know how you've been spending your Saturday nights.”

“You don’t know everything.” Felix had no idea Sylvain was jacking it to him every time they hung up, because he was too pathetic to just fess up to his feelings. “Just because I haven’t been total trash for a couple weeks doesn’t mean I have my life together.”

“Neither do I! I’m still in school, and six months of therapy isn’t enough to undo all of my shit, but I want to figure it out with you.” 

Felix took a bold step toward him. He was so much braver than Sylvain. 

Therapy—what a concept. Growing with Felix again, instead of growing apart. Figuring things out together. It all sounded so good. Too good to be true, just like this weekend. 

Sylvain took a half-step back and lowered his voice. “That sounds great, but we’re a mess together, too. Or did you forget what happened the last time we spent more than a couple minutes together?”

“My brother had just died,” Felix retorted. “Of course I was a mess! I never should have been so cold to you, and I’m sorry for what I put you through, but that doesn’t—”

“Stop it!” Sylvain cut Felix off with a shout, unable to hold it in any longer. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were hurting, and I should have been a better friend, but—”

“I didn’t want a friend! I didn’t want a shoulder to cry on, I wanted _you._ ” Desperation fraying Felix’s voice. At this rate, neither of them was going to finish a sentence. “I wanted you and I didn’t know how to ask, so I pushed you for whatever comfort I could get because anything was better than nothing, and I’m sorry. Do you really not understand that?”

But Sylvain did understand, too well. “You didn’t push me. I wanted you, and I was weak. I failed you.” Just like the first time Felix came to him in his bedroom. “And if we try, I’m just going to fail you again, because we don’t work together.”

Sylvain didn’t work with anyone.

“You don’t know that.” Felix’s reply came out quiet. “We were best friends once, or did you forget?”

“Of course not.” How could Sylvain forget the most important friend he’d ever had? But Felix couldn’t say the same for him, and Sylvain pointed at the coffee shop. They were still close enough to smell the beans roasting. “But it’s not like you are with your friends now and you know it.” 

Felix and Sylvain were only best friends because they grew up together. Because it was convenient. Now that Felix had friends he’d chosen, what did he need Sylvain for? What did they have behind a shared history?”

“No shit it’s different with you,” muttered Felix. “I’m not in love with any of them.”

Closing his eyes didn’t make Felix’s confessions hurt any less, but it did make it easier for Sylvain to say things that could break both of their hearts. “Well, maybe you should be. Any one of them would make you happier than I can.”

His eyes flew open at Felix’s snort—Felix was laughing at him! 

“Then I guess life sucks for me because I don’t want anyone else.” Felix’s laughs bordered on unhinged, like just one blink would unleash a flood of tears from his shining eyes. “I tried. It didn’t work. For some stupid reason, I love you and only you, and if you could just quit feeling sorry for yourself for a second, you’d realize you feel the same way about me.”

And just like that, Sylvain was crying in the middle of the street. He couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down his face, and he could barely force words out around the lump in his throat. “Of course I love you. And that’s why—”

“Don’t say that’s why you can’t!” Now Felix was choked up, too, and the last thing Sylvain wanted was to make him cry. “Don’t tell me you love me and that’s why you have to let me go or some bullshit!”

Goddess, they were making a scene, and Sylvain wanted to take it inside, back to the apartment so no one would hear, but Felix wasn’t done. 

“I threw myself at you. Every single time, I pushed you, and I’m sorry, but now I finally know what I need to do.”

“You don’t need to do anything.” Sylvain wiped his eyes on the back of his arm and shook his head. He was the one who had fucked everything up, but Felix kept going like he hadn’t even heard Sylvain. 

“Fighting’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.” It was a total lie—Felix was good at lots of things—but he killed Sylvain’s protest with a hot glare. “And now I’m going to fight for you.”

Sylvain felt small, physically and emotionally lacking in Felix’s shadow. When did Felix get so grown up? Was Sylvain even further behind than he thought?

Felix took a deep breath and went on. “I can’t make you stay with me, but I’m not giving up unless you give me a real reason. Tell me you don’t want to do long distance. Tell me you’re too focused on your career. Hell, tell me you love someone else and I’ll believe you, but don’t give me this martyr bullshit, because you’re not protecting me from anything. You’re just scared.”

One last protest sprung to Sylvain’s lips. “I’m not trying to be a martyr, but—”

“Then why is it so hard for you to accept that I love you and want to be with you?”

The question knocked the wind out of Sylvain. It bounced off the trees and buildings around them, whipping through Sylvain’s head over and over again. Why  _ was _ it so hard? He voiced his thoughts in real-time, the answer as new to him as it was to Felix: “Because I don’t deserve anyone. I definitely don’t deserve you.” 

Felix’s glare softened like he was satisfied, but he shook his head. “That’s for me to decide. If anything, I don’t deserve you, because you were there for me even when I treated you like shit.”

No—Felix had it all wrong, and a groan ripped out of Sylvain’s throat. This was exactly why he had come to visit in the first place. “Would you stop saying stuff like that when I’m the one who needs to apologize?”

For a moment, Felix didn’t breathe. He stood so perfectly still it was eerie, and Sylvain’s heart pounded in his ears until Felix spoke.

“For what?” 

Those two little words felt like a test.

Sylvain didn’t answer right away, because his first instinct was to apologize for fucking Felix (twice), but that was the wrong answer. Felix had wanted it both times. Pushed for it, to borrow his words. Sylvain had wanted it, too, and he wasn’t sorry it happened. Maybe he was a little sorry he hadn’t made his feelings clearer at the time, but that wasn’t what he needed to apologize for, either. Felix knew how he felt. Felix was the only person in the world who understood how deep Sylvain’s love ran, because he was right there with him, six feet underground and beyond. For better or worse, theirs was the kind of bond that lasted forever. 

Bonds like that didn’t break, no matter how hard Sylvain tried. And just like that, he knew exactly what he’d been regretting all these years.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

Silent seconds ticked by before Felix began to breathe again, deep and steady. Then, his lips curled into a smile so beautiful, Sylvain fell in love with him all over again. 

“Apology accepted.”

Felix turned and started to walk, and Sylvain knew Felix was headed home just as sure as he knew to follow. Somehow, the shouting match, their version of a discussion, was just what he needed. He couldn’t remember the last time his heart felt this light. 

The conversation wasn’t done, and Sylvain still didn’t know where they stood, but everything was out in the open now—no more lies, no more assumptions. Only good could come from that. 

Wordlessly, Felix let Sylvain into his apartment and closed the door behind them. They took their shoes off and sat, Sylvain on the chair and Felix on the bed. 

For a long time, they just stared at each other, but Felix finally broke the silence. “So, I love you, and you love me.”

“Yeah.” They already knew that, but Sylvain didn’t mind hearing it again now. “You know that doesn’t mean we’ll work as a couple, right?”

“It doesn’t mean we won’t,” Felix said. It was funny; now that they were inside, alone, he was much calmer. “We’ve never tried.” 

Felix had him there. They had sixteen years of friendship and two strange attempts at sex under their belts, but they’d never tried regular old fashioned dating. Talking on the phone was the closest they’d come.

But inside, alone, it was easier for Sylvain to voice his fears. “What happens if we try and it doesn’t work?”

He hadn’t let himself ask that in a long time. The same fears lingered in his mind, dormant since that summer day in Sylvain’s room: what if he cheated, what if they fought, what if they broke up, what if, what if, what if...

Felix sucked in deep breath, his shoulders shaking a little as he let it out. “I’m willing to take the risk.” 

Those butterflies came back, fluttering through Sylvain’s whole body like he was a kid with his first crush. Felix didn’t just love him, he was willing to risk his happiness for him, for their future together. 

“You and I both know nothing in life is guaranteed,” Felix said, wise beyond his 21 years. “But don’t you think it’s worth trying?”

It could be bad. Not dead brother or shitty family bad, but heartbreak bad.

Then again, even a chance at something great was better than the monotony Sylvain had been living these past few years.

“I’m not sure I can survive losing you again,” he said. “You’re pretty hard to live without.”

“Then don’t.”

Maybe it could be as simple as that, as plain as the love in Felix’s eyes. Or maybe it would blow up and end in disaster. At that moment, all Sylvain knew was that he and Felix weren’t nearly close enough, and his legs twitched in anticipation. But first he had to know. 

“Felix, can I kiss you?”

“You better.” 

Surer-footed with every step, Sylvain approached the bed and sat down next to Felix. Eyes aglow, not burning, Felix reached for Sylvain’s face and stroked his jaw, barely touching him, like time meant nothing.

He was waiting, Sylvain realized. Felix had put everything on the line and it was beyond time for Sylvain to come to him. Sylvain couldn’t make up for years of lost time in one night, but he could start.

He hovered, close enough to feel the heat from Felix’s skin, his breath, and gave himself one last chance to wake up. When Felix huffed impatiently, Sylvain knew it was real. It didn’t take much, just a nudge and a pull for their lips to touch, softer and slower than he thought Felix could be. Every other kiss they’d shared had been needy, desperate, but this one was all give—Sylvain’s heart and Felix’s trust, a promise sealed.

Chaste kisses like these could have sustained Sylvain for years, but he’d never tasted coffee on Felix’s lips, and he chased that flavor to sweeter depths. Felix wasn’t waiting anymore—he gave as good as he got, letting his hands roam Sylvain’s back, grasping fistfuls of his shirt along their meandering path to the small of his back. 

Fingertips on his bare spine made Sylvain gasp, and he tightened his grip on Felix’s shoulders and pushed. In an unspoken understanding, they shifted until Felix was flat on his back and Sylvain was half on top of him, never breaking the kiss. Shameless, Sylvain reveled in the moment: Felix’s sheets, his scent, his hair, pulled loose and tickling Sylvain’s nose. Sylvain had never kissed his eyelids before, so he did, and his nose, his cheeks, his ears, his neck, letting Felix’s breaths and moans guide him.

He tugged the neck of Felix’s shirt aside to suck at his collarbone and Felix gasped his name out into the empty room, for their ears alone. 

And only then did Sylvain realize Felix wasn’t kissing him back. He’d been too focused on giving Felix the attention he deserved, just like he’d dreamed about back home. 

But Sylvain wanted Felix’s attention, too. He lifted his head, tearing his eyes from the pretty patches he’d sucked into Felix’s neck to look into his eyes. Felix met him with that intense gaze he’d missed so much: too soft and hazy to be a glare, but crackling with energy.

“Kiss me, Felix,” Sylvain begged, pouring all of himself into the words, because he was going to fight, too. “I need you.”

That was all Felix needed to dive in, and he pulled Sylvain’s face to his for kiss after open-mouthed kiss.

“I needed to know,” Felix whispered as he moved on to Sylvain’s jaw, “that you want me, too.”

Sylvain gripped his waist tight, every touch burning with intentions. “I do. Every time, every day, I’ve wanted you, and I’m so sor—”

“Shh…” Felix put a finger to Sylvain’s lips and Sylvain kissed it. “Apologize later.”

Felix replaced his finger with his lips, but Sylvain longed to test his newfound words, too. 

“I love you.” It sounded better every time he said it. “I love you and I want to be with you.”

Felix didn’t let him say anything else. 

Unhurried kisses and touches became more and more urgent, until Sylvain couldn’t ignore what was transpiring between his legs and pressing into his thigh.

“Fe,” he breathed out. “Do you want to—we can take it slow.”

Felix shook his head and yanked Sylvain’s shirt up, exposing his chest. Like it took effort, he dragged his gaze up to Sylvain’s face and asked, “Do you really want to take it slow?”

“No.” Sylvain pulled his shirt the rest of the way off and got to work on Felix’s, leaving both in a pile on the floor. They’d gotten an eyeful of each other already but now Sylvain could stare all he wanted and  _ touch, _ trace the lines between every muscle and watch Felix twitch under his touch. 

Felix wasn’t nearly so gentle, eyes wide and greedy as he pressed both hands to Sylvain’s chest and squeezed. That stoked Sylvain’s confidence more than any flirty remark ever could, and then Felix said, “I was going to kill you if you tried to sleep on the floor last night.”

His growl shot down Sylvain’s spine and pulsed through his cock, and Sylvain flattened his palm to Felix’s abdomen. 

“I thought I was going to die this morning,” Sylvain told him. “Thought you’d kill me if you saw how hard I was.”

“You really thought I didn’t want you?” Still fondling him shamelessly, Felix sank his teeth into the muscle between Sylvain’s neck and shoulder. Sylvain hissed, but not from pain.

“I told you, I’ve got shit to work out.”

“So do I.” Felix kissed the bite marks he’d left. “You’re not special.”

That’s right. It wasn’t just Sylvain; Felix had issues, too, and they’d work on them. Together. It was scary and new, but just like always, Sylvain would do anything for Felix. 

A younger Sylvain would have tried to fill the silence with boasts and quips, but today, he let it be. Once Felix managed to stop touching Sylvain’s chest, he went straight for his belt like he had nothing to prove. Sylvain helped, easing his own pants down before reaching for Felix’s. With just a push, they were skin to skin, warmer than any fantasy. 

Felix nodded toward his nightstand and Sylvain found condoms and lube in the drawer—brand new. Like Felix has bought them just for this weekend, along with the milk. That knocked the wind out of him, just for a second. Felix wanted this so badly he’d planned for it. 

Gentler and more patient than Sylvain thought possible, Felix kissed his temple. It felt like encouragement.

Vowing to go slow, Sylvain made his way down Felix’s body to his legs, already spread wide. Sylvain pressed kisses to his inner thighs, relishing the feel of Felix’s fingers in his hair. This was only the third time they’d had sex, but Sylvain could count the people he’d slept with more than once on one hand. He couldn’t wait to get to know Felix by his body, to know him better in every possible way.

Fingers slicked and in place, he looked up at Felix, Felix nodded down at him, and Sylvain pushed inside. Just one finger was enough to make them both gasp. Felix relaxed around him, tight but quick to adjust, and Sylvain remembered the other things in his drawer. Did Felix lose himself in a fantasy after their phone calls, just like Sylvain?

It didn’t matter now. Felix made a needy sound and Sylvain started to move, in and out, gently pressing down to stretch him a little more. Barely above his breath, Felix whispered Sylvain’s name, and Sylvain pressed another finger inside. 

Felix pushed harder on his scalp as Sylvain built a rhythm, stronger with each thrust of his hand. How could anything be this warm, this soft? He let his eyes drift to Felix’s hard cock; precome gleamed at the tip, and the sight sent a shiver through him. Someday he’d see if Felix could come on just his fingers, or perhaps his tongue—thinking of all the things they could do together sent a pulse through his own cock, and Sylvain moved faster, spreading his fingers to make room for a third. 

Felix moaned, releasing Sylvain to stroke himself a few times, and Sylvain pressed his forehead to Felix’s thigh to try to calm himself down. 

“You’re—let me.”

And with that incoherent sentence, Sylvain took Felix’s cock in his free hand, still thrusting with the other. Felix arched his back so deeply he lifted off the bed, gripping the sheets. 

“Not like this,” Felix managed to say, though he seemed unwilling to actually stop Sylvain. “Please.”

That did it, and Sylvain drew his fingers out, wiping them on his own leg. He wanted this moment tattooed on his brain: Felix, writhing and ready and so very in love. For too long Sylvain stared, until Felix ripped the condom open in a not-so-subtle hint. 

Half-sitting, he wrapped a hand around Sylvain’s cock, and Sylvain gasped as Felix worked his shaft up and down. Just the quick handjob had his balls and gut pulling tighter; Sylvain would have to calm down if he wanted to last. As if sensing this, Felix’s hand slowed, and he locked eyes with Sylvain as he rolled the condom down his cock. Love like Sylvain had never known flooded his chest, and he took Felix’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers. 

If they worked at it, this relationship, they’d have years to try every position under the sun, but today, Sylvain just wanted Felix facing him, close enough to kiss. He didn’t have to say it aloud—Felix leaned back until he was flat on the bed. Sylvain spread his legs to brace himself over him, knees digging into the mattress. Felix pulled his own legs up to Sylvain’s sides, feet wrapped around his ass to bring him that much closer. 

Eye to eye and heart to heart, Sylvain pushed in. He could only go halfway before he got overwhelmed; Felix accommodated his cock like he was made to take it, relaxing around him with a sigh. Sylvain had never gotten the chance to just enjoy his warmth like this before, and he could have stayed like this forever, safe inside Felix. At home. But goddess, it would feel so good to move, and Felix pressed on his hips to urge him along. 

Slowly, Sylvain pulled out, focusing on how Felix felt around every inch of his cock as he went, and just as the tip was about to pop free, he thrust back in, deeper, almost all the way. Felix made up the difference, lifting his ass off the bed to bring their hips flush. 

They cried out as one, some unintelligible noise—he’d never been this deep in Felix before, deep enough to bury his balls, his whole self inside, or at least that was how it felt. He brushed his lips against Felix’s open mouth, more touch than kiss, and began to move. 

Felix’s face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen; already, he looked utterly wrecked with pleasure, drunk on Sylvain’s cock. Sylvain had to fight to keep his hips steady as he rolled them, smooth as he could manage. He kept expecting Felix to look away, but Felix held his gaze as they rocked together, eyes half open and hazy while gasps and whimpers tumbled out of his mouth unchecked. He looked so adorable Sylvain could hardly stand it—he needed to tell Felix, tried to say it with a long, hard thrust, and—

“Aah!”

—slipped right out of his ass.

Felix just cracked a smile and steered Sylvain’s cock back in place, sheathing him like a sword. Sylvain was too far gone to be embarrassed, too focused on Felix’s smile and the rhythm they made together. It didn’t matter that their timing didn’t always sync, or that Sylvain couldn’t seem to find his pornstar-level agility—this was the best sex of his entire life, and it was only going to get better.

Sylvain felt it in his chest, in his heart—the need to be deeper in Felix, to be closer to him as they rocked faster. Felix held him tight, one hand behind his neck and the other centered on his back even as sweat threatened to break his grip. It was getting harder to hold out, and when Felix’s eyes fluttered shut, Sylvain knew he was close, too. 

Sylvain used to use moments like these to try and prove his dick was magic, honing in on a prostate or G-spot not so much for his partner but to stroke his own ego. But this was Felix, and there would be time to push his limits later. Right now, Sylvain just wanted to make him feel amazing. He reached for Felix’s cock and jerked him in clumsy strokes, faster than their hips could move, until Felix found his silent release. Face contorted in utter bliss, Felix spilled between them, his fingers digging into Sylvain’s skin.

That look and one last push had Sylvain clutching Felix’s shoulder and coming inside him with an unbridled grunt. Torrents of pleasure crashed through his body, his mind, his very soul, and he didn’t care how he sounded, not when Felix was holding him tight and taking everything he had to give.

In a lot of ways, it was like their first time: sloppy, uncoordinated, and brimming with emotions Sylvain wasn’t used to feeling during sex. But this time, as they clung to each other in the moments after, all Sylvain knew was love: brand new, exciting, and not nearly as scary as he thought it would be.

Felix was glowing, radiant with a sweetness he never seemed to show without a dick in his ass. Idly, Sylvain wondered if anyone else could render him so boneless, but it didn’t matter, because Felix loved him. 

Sylvain wasn’t even sad when he pulled out and pitched the condom because Felix was waiting for him when he climbed back into bed. The moment he lay down, Felix adhered himself to his side, and Sylvain basked in his warmth. The ceiling light above them was so bright they had to squint—they hadn’t bothered to turn it off—but cuddling was a revelation, so compelling neither of them could be bothered to move.

Sylvain only regretted all the chances he’d missed.

“What is it?” Felix asked mildly as he stroked Sylvain’s chest. 

“If I had just…” Sylvain trailed off with a sigh and tried again. “If I hadn’t pushed you away the first time, if we had done this instead…”

“Don’t waste your time thinking about what could have been.” Felix’s usual disdain was creeping back into his voice. “Do better.”

He was right, of course. Sylvain draped one arm around Felix’s shoulders, just like he’d wanted to this morning. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Is this a good start?”

Felix burrowed deeper in his side, but he only responded with a huff. Sex-tamed Felix was short-lived, but Sylvain loved him just as much at his prickliest (especially since he was still willing to snuggle). 

It was tempting to lie around like this all night and all day tomorrow, right up until the moment Sylvain had to leave.

Oh. Right. Sylvain had to leave tomorrow. 

“What is it now?” Felix sounded annoyed this time, and he sat up in bed, bringing cuddle hours to an abrupt end.

“Just thinking about tomorrow. Going home.”

“Don’t,” said Felix. “Think about what you want for dinner instead, and bear in mind I absolutely want to do this again after.”

And then Felix got up and stretched his arms high over his head, distracting Sylvain from his sad thoughts. He lunged for the side of the bed and snared Felix around his middle. 

“Sylvain!” But it was a half-hearted protest, and Felix tumbled into his arms for more kisses. 

Maybe what they had wouldn’t last forever. It definitely wouldn’t always be like this—breathless kisses, soft touches, and perfect harmony—but when it came to Felix, the good was always, always worth the bad. 

Sylvain just needed to learn to let himself have the good. 

Morning came like it always did, then afternoon and evening followed, and after a long goodbye kiss that ended below the belt, Sylvain was on the road.

He hated living at the mercy of his schedule, not knowing when he’d see Felix again, but knowing he was with Felix was enough for now.

Although…

He grabbed his phone. “We’re together, right, Felix?”

“You seriously called me for this?” Felix retorted.

Sylvain pouted even though Felix couldn’t see him. “We never made it official!” 

“Fine. It’s official: you’re my boyfriend. Now hang up and drive.”

Sylvain’s heart overflowed, warmth flowing through his chest like magma at the word  _ boyfriend.  _ Just hearing Felix say it made him want to turn the car around and kiss him some more, maybe give him another farewell blowjob.

But Felix was right, and, ache seeping into his bleeding heart, he said, “Goodbye, boyfriend.”

“Goodbye, Sylvain. Call me when you get home.”

He sounded so much like Rodrigue that Sylvain wanted to laugh out loud, but he held it in. The commitment, the concern—it was more than Sylvain could have hoped for. More than he deserved. 

But if Felix wanted him, Sylvain couldn’t be that bad, could he?

~

Long distance lasted all of two months—two months of long calls, endless texts, phone sex, and rushed visits—before Sylvain had a new job, a new house, and a brand new therapist in Enbarr. Sylvain made friends with Felix’s friends, and even Linhardt couldn’t deny his existence anymore. Little by little, he made his own friends too, at work and around the city.

Watching Felix study wasn’t exciting, but it was inspiring. So inspiring that, with Felix’s full support, Sylvain entered a nurse practitioner program soon after moving. Once word got out on social media, he missed a call from his parents—probably some variation of _still not a doctor?—_ but he happily accepted congratulations from Rodrigue, Dimitri, and his old coworkers.

And as for Felix, it got better: the guilt, the communication, the sex—all the ins and outs of a long term commitment that Sylvain never thought he could have. It turned out being good at arguing wasn’t a bad thing. They had their fights, but they got to the root of most of them pretty quickly, and makeup sex (another new concept for Sylvain) was really, really hot. Felix kept a drawer of clothes at Sylvain’s house, Sylvain kept the kind of cheese Felix could eat stocked in his fridge, and sometime after graduating, Felix just stopped going back to his own apartment. 

They fucked in it one last time before his lease expired, though.

And one night, curled up with Felix in the bed they shared, listening to his slow, steady breathing, Sylvain got to thinking about the future, even further down the line.

“Do you want to get married?” He let the hypothetical question fly into the night. 

Felix started in his arms. “Sylvain?!” 

“Oh.” Sylvain craned his neck to look down at Felix. “You’re awake.”

But Felix wasn’t resting peacefully like he was a minute ago. Now he was glaring at Sylvain. “Yeah. Do you want to explain why you just tried to propose while I was half asleep?” 

“What?” Sylvain’s eyes went wide. “I wasn’t proposing! I meant, like, someday. Do you want to get married someday?”

Felix seemed to relax a little, frown softening as he eased back onto the pillow of Sylvain’s bare chest. “Of course I do.”

That pleasant thought warmed Sylvain’s heart. He could just see it: Felix in a white suit or maybe a tuxedo, hair swept even more elaborately than usual, standing across from him, somewhere green and pretty (they’d figure that part out later). Drowsiness softened the vision, and he stroked Felix’s back and mumbled, “Good.” 

Just as he was drifting off, Felix’s voice cut through the silence. “I just don’t see the point of waiting.”

“What?” Now it was Sylvain who sat up in bed, jostling Felix in the process. 

“I don’t want some grandiose production, do you?” Felix say back up, too. They were both propped up on one arm, facing each other, fingers just touching. 

Sylvain thought about it. His little fantasy hadn’t included a crowd or a fancy party. He certainly didn’t want his parents there, or even his friends, really. Just him and Felix. _Till death do us part._

“I don’t.”

“Then let’s just do it,” said Felix. “Tomorrow. I’ll get you a ring and everything.”

“Hey, I’m the one who proposed. Shouldn’t I get you a ring?” 

“You did not propose. You asked me a hypothetical question!”

“And you gave me a real answer,” said Sylvain, smug. “So it still counts.”

Felix clicked his tongue. “I suppose we have no choice but to get each other rings.”

“Pretty sure that’s what people do when they get married, Fe. But if you want, we can tell everyone you proposed to me. Even though it’s a lie.” 

Felix narrowed his eyes, and Sylvain prepared himself for an insult.

He found himself flat on his back with Felix straddling his hips instead, wearing a grin that could only be described as menacing. 

“I propose you shut your mouth and let me ride you, then we’ll call it even.”

Sylvain wanted to say  _ deal, _ but he was too busy shutting his mouth and letting Felix ride him. 

The next day, they got married, in white suits, with two rings, at the courthouse. And as it happened, no one cared who proposed. All anyone cared about was—

“You got _married?_ ” 

Sylvain chuckled in the driver’s seat. He could hear Rodrigue through the phone even though Felix was the one talking to him.

“I’m happy for you and Sylvain, of course, but I wouldn’t have minded an invitation.”

“We didn’t invite anyone,” said Felix. He reached over the center console and stroked Sylvain’s thigh, staggeringly intimate even though they were alone. “This was just for us.” 

Sylvain smiled and covered Felix’s hand with his own. 

“I suppose you’ve always done things your own way, haven’t you?” Rodrigue said. “Well, congratulations. I’ve been rooting for you boys a long time, you know.”

“Dad…” Felix looked out the window, flustered, but he didn’t move his hand.

“So, are you taking a honeymoon?” 

“We’re driving time Aegir right now!” Sylvain called. 

“Aegir is beautiful this time of year,” said Rodrigue. “Have fun, and do take care of each other. Oh, and don’t be upset if you find a gift waiting for you when you return.”

“You don’t have to get us anything,” Felix muttered. 

“Ah, but you’re my son.” Rodrigue chuckled over the line. “Both of you now, it would seem.”

And even Felix couldn’t frown about that. 

The drive to Aegir was beautiful, lined with scenic overlooks and rocky beaches, but Sylvain could barely keep his eyes off the breathtaking sight right next to him: his best friend, the love of his life, and now, his husband. Sometimes it still felt like more than Sylvain deserved, but he had long since learned to trust Felix’s judgement on the matter. 

Sylvain had made a lot of mistakes in his life, and no matter how hard he tried, he was going to make more. All he could do was learn from them and try to avoid making the same ones again. Felix loved him just the way he was, and Felix wasn’t perfect, either. That didn’t stop Sylvain from loving him more and more each day. 

Maybe it was time he learned to love himself, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _maybe I did you wrong and made you bleed_   
>  _maybe you made mistakes and that got me on my knees_   
>  _maybe we're just a mess, but it works for me_   
>  _'cause I know that every time you leave, you come home to me_
> 
> chapter title and lyrics from _come home to me_ by Leon
> 
> \----
> 
> I'm so emotional. I loved writing this story and I already miss it. Thanks so much to [phichithamsters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters/) and [Naamah_Beherit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naamah_Beherit) for beta reading and support along the way, and thanks to everyone who read this story. I hope you enjoyed the journey and the happy ending. 
> 
> See you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> [@peppiestbismilk](https://twitter.com/PeppiestBismilk) on twitter


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